i, 

w. 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

PRESENTED  BY 

PROF.  CHARLES  A.  KOFOID  AND 
MRS.  PRUDENCE  W.  KOFOID 


MAUD    HOWE. 


FAMOUS    PETS 


OF  FAMOUS  PEOPLE 


BY 


ELEANOR     LEWIS 


'  MOUCHE,"   VICTOR   HUGO'S  CAT. 


ILLUSTRATED 


BOSTON 

D.    LOTH  R  OP    COMPANY 

WASHINGTON  STREET  OPPOSITE  BROMFIELD 


COPYRIGHT,  1892, 

BY 
D.  LOTHROP  COMPANY. 


JSocktofll  anB  Cfjurcfjtll 

BOSTON 


Bioloc 


TO 

fflauti  Pjotoe  Elliott 

WHOSE   DEVOTION   TO   HER   OWN   PETS  CONSTITUTES   HER 

THE    FRIEND    OF   EVERY   OTHER,   THIS   BOOK 

IS    APPRECIATIVELY   INSCRIBED 

BY   THE  AUTHOR 


CONTENTS. 


SOME    SCOTCH    CELEBRITIES  ...  15 

II. 
A    SELECT    COMPANY 37 

III. 
PETS    IN    LITERARY    LIFE 53 

IV. 

"THE  UPPER  TEN  " ....  75 

V. 

A    NOTABLE    CANINE    TRIO       .  .  ......  119 

VI. 
PETS    IN    ARTIST    LIFE    .  .....  135 

VII. 
PUSSY    IN    PRIVATE    LIFE          .....  ....  173 

VIII. 
AN    ODD    SET  ....  jgg 

IX. 
MILITARY    PETS      .  2O(, 

X. 

ANIMALS    AT    SCHOOL 2 ,  x 

XI. 

A    MENAGERIE    IN    STONE  ,  . , 


LIST    OF    ILLUSTRATIONS. 


Miss  Maud  Howe  and  her  dog  Sambo         .  Frontis. 

Statue  of  Sir  Walter  Scott,  in  Edinburgh 17 

Sir  Walter  Scott  and  his  bull-terrier,  Camp 21 

Rab ...  25 

"BabyRab" 26 

"  Pity  the  sorrows  of  us  homeless  dogs  " 27 

Dr.  John  Brown,  Dr.  Pecldie,  and  Dandle 28 

Drinking-fountain  monument  to  Greyfriars'  Bobby,  Edinburgh    ...  29 

Greyfriars'  Bobby         ....                            .                  ...  31 

Mrs.  Harriet  Beecher  Stowe  at  home  ........  38 

Mrs.  Stowe's  dog  Punch       ..........  40 

Mrs.  Stowe's  dog  Missy 41 

Mrs.  Phelps's  dog  Daniel  Deronda      ........  42 

Mrs.  Jane  Welsh  Carlyle  and  Nero 45 

Lord  Byron  and  his  dog  Lyon     .........  56 

Sir  Horace  Walpole  and  Patapan 59 

Charles  Dickens's  pet  raven,  Grip       ........  62 

Bushie,  the  favorite  clog  of  Charlotte  Cushman 66 

Mouche,  Victor  Hugo's  cat          .........  68 

General  Muff,  Miss  Mary  L.  Booth's  cat 69 


LIST    OF    ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Nelly,  the  dog  of  Edmund  Yates 77 

Frederick  the  Great  and  his  sister  Wilhelmina    .         .         .         .         .         .  Si 

Prince  Bismarck  and  his  dogs ...  Si 

Queen  Elizabeth  in  her  peacock  gown         ....  86 

Mary,  Queen  of  Scots,  at  the  age  of  ten      .         .         .         .         .         .         .  87 

Lady  Margaret  Lenox,  mother  of  Lord  Darnley ...  88 

Children  of  Charles  I.  with  spaniels    ......  90 

Children  of  Charles  I.  ;  Prince  Charles  and  his  mastiff       .         .         .         .  91 

James  Stuart,  Duke  of  Richmond,  son  of  Esme  Stuart         .         .  -95 

Princess  Elizabeth,  eldest  daughter  of  James  I.,  and  her  pets     .         .  98 

Princess  Mary,  daughter  of  Charles  I. 101 

Charles  II.  and  pet  spaniel,  at  Dawney  Court,  Bucks,  seat  of  the  Duchess 

of  Cleveland      ...........  104 

Princess  Amelia  and  her  dog       .........  105 

Princess  Augusta,  daughter  of  George  III.  } 

107 
Princess  Amelia,  daughter  of  George  III.  > 

A  favorite  at  Marlborough  House        .  109 
Pet  spaniel  of  Louis  XVI.,  companion  of  his  daughter  "  Madame  Royale," 

in  prison   .......  1 1 1 

Pet  Italian  greyhound  of  Marie  Louise        .         .                                     .         .  112 

Carlo  Alberto  and  his  favorite  horse    ...  .113 

Victor  Emmanuel  and  his  dog      .         .                   .         .                  .         .  115 

Prince  Henry,  eldest  son  of  James  I.  120 

Prince  Rupert  with  his  white  dog  Boy          .  127 

Puritan  caricature  of  the  death  of  Prince  Rupert's  white  hound  Boy  .         .  131 

Miss  Bowles        ....  136 

"  Friends  now,  Pussy !"       .         .  137 
The  painter  Hogarth  and  his  dog  Trump    .         .                                              .139 
Portrait  of  Albrecht  Du'rer  at  thirteen          ....                          .141 

Hare  drawn  by  the  boy  Albrecht  Diirer       ...  142 

Two  Venetian  ladies  and  their  pets 143 


LIST    OF    ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Section  of  dome  .  .  ....  145 

Ducks  .         .  ...  146 

Fragment     ....  ........  147 

Hens  and  chickens      ...........  147 

Two  of  Gottfried  Mind's  cats       .........  148 

The  Cavalier's  pets     ..........  149 

The  dustman's  dog      .         ..........  151 

Countess,  the  sleeping  bloodhound      ........  151 

The  critics  .............  152 

Paul  Pry,  a  member  of  the  Humane  Society        ......  153 

An  old  monarch  ........  ...  155 

Wasp,  Rosa  Bonheur's  pet  terrier        ........  157 

The  horse  fair      ....  .......  158 

The  lion  at  home          ...........  159 

Glen  and  his  master  at  Etretat    .  .....  160 

Glen    ....  .  .         .         .  161 

Mr.  Chase  and  Kat-te          .  ........  !62 

Lilla,  Cruikshank's  little  dog       .........  163 

Lady  Tankerville,  who  hid  her  kittens  in  the  head  of    Story's  statue  of 

Peabody    ...........  igc 

Entrance  and  window  of  the  sculptor  Ezekiel's  studio  in  Rome  .         .         .  168 

Bimbo,  one  of  the  sculptor  Story's  pets        .         .  .  169 

Cat-headed  Egyptian  goddess,  Bast  or  Bubastis  .         .  .  174 

Bas-relief  of  Whittington  and  his  cat  .         .  ...  175 

Cardinal  Richelieu,  front  face  and  sides      .  ....  179 

The  two-legged  cat  that  belonged  to  Dr.  Hill  of  Princeton  College     .         .  183 


'  .....         193 

Cowper's  tame  hares   .                  .                            .  ,„„ 

Helix  Desertorum        ......  2O  . 

Bobby,  the  clog  who  would  be  a  soldier        .  211 

The  deer  that  marched  ahead      .  220 


LIST    OF    ILLUSTRATIONS. 

The  Welsh  Fusileers' goat  .  221 

Old  Abe      ....  223 

Love  leading  the  orchestra .         .         .  232 

The  elephants  of  Germanicus      ...  232 

The  cat  showman         .         .                                            •  233 

Pinta  and  his  mule  Marco    .         .         .  234 

Help,  the  railway  dog  of  England        ...                                   .  235 

Prof.  Bonnetty's  troupe        .         .  237 

The  Brighton  Cats       ....  239 

A  cat  with  a  conscience       .         .  241 

"  Tell  me  thy  secret,  Beppo "       .         .  242 

Sculpture  of  greyhounds  in  the  Vatican       .                                   .  248 

Sculpture  of  thieving  monkey  in  the  Vatican       ...  249 

Stag  in  alabaster  in  the  Vatican  ...                  .  250 

Pliny's  doves;  a  mosaic  in  the  Capitol  at  Rome  251 

Patrician  or  plebeian  ?          .         .         .  253 

The  chimera  ;  Etruscan  sculpture  in  the  Bargello  at  Florence    .  254 


SOME    SCOTCH    CELEBRITIES. 


FAMOUS    PETS. 


I. 


SOME     SCOTCH     CELEBRITIES. 

BEAUTIFUL  Edinburgh,  her  gray  warmed  into  gold  by  the 
summer  sunshine,  lies  half-asleep  at  the  foot  of  her  Castle 
Rock,  and  dreams,  through  the  peaceful  present,  of  her  stormy,  im- 
petuous past.  Each  grain  of  dust  there  is  historic.  The  traveler's 
every  footstep  wakes  some  memory  of  old  days.  Over  castle  and 
palace,  broad  way  and  narrow  close,  over  Canongate,  Grassmarket, 
Arthur's  Seat,  over  hills  that  environ  and  streams  that  link,  a 
magician  has  cast  his  spell  —  so  intimately  blending  past  and 
present,  that  we  cannot  look  upon  the  one  without  remembering 
the  other. 

To-day  in  sculptured  marble,  as  erstwhile  in  life,  the  weaver  of 
the  spell  yet  guards  his  time-worn  city,  like  the  good  genius  of  its 
fate.  Passionless,  mute,  he  sits  brooding —  the  bustle  of  existence 
all  around  him  —  while  the  hound  at  his  side  gazes  up  at  him,  in  rest 
unbroken  as  his  own.  The  Scott  monument — that  is  what  rises 
before  us  ;  and  the  broad-browed,  deep-eyed  enchanter  within,  that 
-  as  every  schoolboy  knows  —  is  the  great  Sir  Walter  Scott,  the 
good,  well-loving,  dearly-loved  Sir  Walter. 

'5 


!6  SOME     SCOTCH    CELEBRITIES. 

"  What  has  he  not  done  for  every  one  of  us  ?  "  writes  the  his- 
torian of  Rab.  "  Who  else  ever,  except  Shakespeare,  so  diverted 
mankind,  entertained  and  entertains  a  world  so  liberally,  so  whole- 
somely ?"  Who,  indeed?  And,  in  truth,  we  owe  him  far  more 
than  mere  diversion,  however  liberal  and  wholesome ;  and  may  count 
it  not  least  among  his  gifts  to  the  world  that,  from  the  height  of  his 
fame,  he  set  it  example  of  a  wise,  distinguishing  regard  for  animals. 

"  He  prayeth  well  who  loveth  well 
Both  man  and  bird  and  beast  "  — 

might  stand  for  the  motto  of  his  life.  From  babyhood  to  old  age 
the  power  of  loving  enriched  him,  and  won  from  "  all  things,  great 
or  small,"  a  warm  response. 

The  most  conversible,  attachable,  and  hence,  dearest,  among  his 
humble  friends  were,  naturally,  horses  and  dogs.  He  liked,  how- 
ever, almost  everything  that  breathes  ;  and  poultry,  cattle,  sheep, 
or  pigs,  cats  and  birds  —  all  shared,  to  greater  or  less  degree,  in  his 
good  will.  An  old  gray  badger  lived,  hermit-like,  in  a  hole  near 
Abbotsford  for  many  years  under  his  protection.  A  hen  and  a  pig 
formed  ardent  attachments  to  him  ;  and  a  pair  of  little  donkeys 
would  trot  like  puppies  at  his  heels  whenever  they  got  the  chance. 

Carlyle  tells  the  story  of  a  Blenheim  cocker  in  Edinburgh,  the 
most  timid  and  reserved  of  its  race,  which  shrank  from  all  attention 
save  that  of  its  mistress,  until  one  day  on  the  street  it  made  a 
sudden  spring  towards  a  tall,  halting  stranger,  and  fawned  upon 
him  in  an  ecstasy  of  delight.  This  was,  of  course,  our  own  Sir 
Walter,  whose  great  heart,  like  a  magnet,  drew  to  it  all  other  hearts, 
whether  bold  or  shy. 

His  horses  all  fed  from  his  hand,  and  preferred  his  attendance 
to  that  of  the  grooms  ;  while,  until  lameness  obliged  him,  in  later 


STATUE  OF   SIR   WALTER   SCOTT,    IN    EDINBURGH. 


SOME     SCOTCH    CELEBRITIES.  19 

years,  to  give  up  walking,  he  would  never  ride  on  Sunday,  believ- 
ing that  "  all  domestic  animals  have  a  full  right  to  their  Sabbath 
of  rest."  If  his  four-footed  dependants  were  ill,  he  nursed  and 
prescribed  for  them.  When  little  Spice,  an  asthmatic  terrier,  was 
following  the  carriage,  he  would  carry  it  over  the  Brooks,  that  it 
might  not  get  wet.  In  fine,  he  was  always  what  too  few  are  — 
"  a  gentleman,  even  to  his  dogs." 

Pets  were  so  numerous  at  Abbotsford  that  their  record  must  be 
brief.  The  long  list  of  pet  horses  opens  in  his  childhood  with  a 
Shetland  pony  called  Marion  —  a  dwarfish  creature  that  fed  from  his 
hand,  and  ran  in  and  out  of  the  house  like  a  dog.  The  pair  were 
close  friends,  and  passed  hours  together  exploring  the  hills.  In  his 
twentieth  year,  or  thereabouts,  Lenore  is  mentioned  as  doing  him 
good  service,  but  ere  long  was  succeeded  by  Captain,  coal-black  and 
full  of  mettle.  Next  came  Lieutenant,  and  then  Brown  Adam,  a 
special  favorite,  who  would  let  none  but  his  master  ride  him,  and 
who,  when  saddled  and  bridled,  would  trot  out  of  the  stable  by 
himself  to  the  mounting-stone,  and  wait  there  for  Sir  Walter. 
Daisy,  next  in  order, was  "all  over  white,  without  a  speck,  and  with 
such  a  mane  as  Rubens  delighted  to  paint."  His  temper,  unfortu- 
nately, was  less  perfect  than  his  mane,  and  eventually  Sir  Walter 
sold  him.  Daisy  was  succeeded  by  the  original  of  Dandie  Din- 
mont's  "  Dumple,"  in  the  shape  of  a  sober  cob  named  Sybil  Grey  ; 
and  the  list  closes  with  a  staid  old  horse  known  indifferently  as 
Donee  Davie  and  the  Covenanter. 

In  1803,  the  canine  favorite  was  Camp,  a  fine  bull-terrier,  "very 
handsome,  very  intelligent,  and  naturally  very  fierce,  but  gentle  as 
a  lamb  among  the  children."  It  is  this  dog  that  appears  in  the 
painting  by  Raeburn.  He  had  considerable  intellect  in  his  way, 
and  understood  much  that  was  said  to  him.  Once  he  bit  the  family 


20  SOME     SCOTCH    CELEBRITIES. 

baker,  and  was  severely  punished  for  it  —  his  offense  being  at  the 
same  time  explained  to  him,  says  Scott.  After  this,  "to  the  last 
moment  of  his  life,  he  never  heard  the  least  allusion  to  the  story, 
in  whatever  voice  or  tone  it  was  mentioned,  without  getting  up  and 
retiring  into  the  darkest  corner  of  the  room,  with  great  appearance 
of  distress.  Then  if  you  said,  '  The  baker  was  well  paid,'  or,  '  The 
baker  was  not  hurt  after  all,'  Camp  came  forth  from  his  hiding- 
place,  capered,  and  barked,  and  rejoiced." 

He  lost  none  of  his  brightness,  although  strength  began  to  fail 
him  in  1808,  so  that  he  could  no  longer  accompany  Sir  Walter  on 
his  rides.  But  still  when  as  evening  drew  on,  the  servant  would 
say,  "  Camp,  the  shirra's  comin'  hame  by  the  ford,"  or  "  by  the  hill," 
Camp  would  patter  stiffly  to  the  front  door  or  back,  as  the  direction 
might  imply,  and  there  await  the  master  whom  he  could  no  longer 
follow.  He  died  the  ensuing  year,  in  January,  and  was  buried  in 
the  garden  of  Scott's  Edinburgh  house,  where  even  yet  the  place  is 
pointed  out.  The  whole  family  stood  in  tears  around  the  grave, 
while  Sir  Walter  himself,  with  sad  face,  smoothed  the  turf  above 
his  old  companion.  He  had  been  invited  to  dine  from  home  that 
night,  but  excused  himself  on  account  of  the  death  of  a  clear  old 
friend  ;  and  none  wondered  when  they  learned  that  the  friend  was 
Camp. 

Contemporary  with  Camp  were  the  two  greyhounds,  Percy  and 
Douglas,  who,  though  far  less  dear,  were  much  petted.  It  is  on  rec- 
ord that  despite  Lady  Scott's  fear  of  robbers,  a  window  was  always 
left  open  for  these  dogs  to  pass  in  and  out.  They  lie  buried  at 
Abbotsford  with  other  of  their  doggish  kin.  Percy,  in  particular, 
is  honored  by  a  stone  of  antique  appearance,  and  this  inscription, 
befitting  some  valiant  knight: 

"Cy  git  le  preux  Percie." 


SOME     SCOTCH    CELEBRITIES. 


21 


Poor  Camp  went  over  to  the  majority  of  dogs  in  January  ;  in 
July,  Sir  Walter  wrote  to  a  friend  that  he  had  filled  the  vacant 
place  with  a  shaggy  terrier-puppy  of  high  pedigree,  and  named  it 
Wallace  —  its  donor  being  a  descendant  of  that  famous  Scotch- 
man. Somewhat  later  the 
family  was  enlarged  by  a 
smooth-haired  kintail  ter- 
rier called  Ou  risque, 
which,  if  attending  the 
master  on  his  rides,  would 
sometimes  pretend  fa- 
tigue, and  whine  to  be 
taken  up  on  horseback, 
where  it  would  sit  upright, 
without  any  support,  in 
great  state. 

But  of  all  Sir  Walter's 
pets,  the  most  famous  was 
Maida,  a  gift  in  1816  from 
his  Highland  friend  Glen- 
garry. He  describes  it 
with  enthusiasm,  as  "  The 
noblest  dog  ever  seen  on 
the  Border  since  Johnny 
Armstrong's  time,  .  .  . 
between  the  wolf  and  deer  greyhound,  about  six  feet  from 
the  tip  of  the  nose  to  the  tail,  and  high  and  strong  in  propor- 
tion." Captain  Thomas  Brown,  who  knew  Maida  well,  says, 
"So  uncommon  was  his  appearance,  that  he  used  to  attract 
great  crowds  in  Edinburgh  to  look  at  him  whenever  he  ap- 


SIR   WALTER   SCOTT  AND   HIS   HULL-TERRIER,   CAMP. 
(From  tlte  painting  by  Raebnrn.} 


22  SOME     SCOTCH    CELEBRITIES. 

peared  on  the  streets.  He  was  a  remarkably  high-spirited  and 
beautiful  dog,  with  black  ears,  cheeks,  back  and  sides,  .  .  .  the  tip 
of  his  tail  white,  ...  his  hair  rough  and  shaggy;  .  .  .  that  on  the 
ridge  of  his  neck,  he  used  to  raise  like  a  lion's  mane,  when  excited 
to  anger." 

Maida  was  uniformly  gentle  except  —  aristocrat  that  he  was  !  — 
to  the  poorly-dressed  and  to  artists.  His  detestation  of  the  latter 
may  be  explained  by  the  number  of  times  he  had  been  obliged  to 
pose  for  them  ;  —  the  mere  sight  of  a  brush  and  palette  was  at  last 
enough  to  make  him  run.  His  bark  was  deep  and  hollow ;  and 
sometimes,  says  Sir  Walter,  "  he  amused  himself  with  howling  in  a 
very  tiresome  way.  When  he  was  very  fond  of  his  friends  he  used 
to  grin,  tucking  up  his  whole  lips  and  showing  all  his  teeth,  but  it 
was  only  when  he  was  particularly  disposed  to  recommend  himself." 

Once  he  got  hung  by  the  leg,  in  trying  to  jump  a  park  paling, 
and  began  to  howl.  But  seeing  his  friends  approach,  "he  stopped 
crying,  and  waved  his  tail  by  the  way  of  signal,  it  was  supposed,  for 
assistance."  Luckily  he  was  not  much  hurt,  and  most  grateful 
for  his  rescue. 

The  pleasant  Irish  authoress,  Miss  Edgevvorth,  was  also  fond  of 
animals  ;  and  Scott's  correspondence  with  this  lady  is  full  of  allu- 
sions to  their  mutual  canine  friends.  In  April,  1822,  he  tells  her 
that  Maida  can  no  longer  follow  him  far  from  the  house,  and  adds : 
"  I  have  sometimes  thought  of  the  final  cause  of  dogs  having  such 
short  lives  ;  and  I  am  quite  satisfied  that  it  is  in  compassion  to  the 
human  race ;  for  if  we  suffer  so  much  in  losing  a  dog  after  an  ac- 
quaintance of  ten  or  twelve  years,  what  would  it  be  if  they  were  to 
live  double  that  time?  " 

We  can  well  imagine  his  grief  when  finally  (October,  1824) 
Maida  passed  away  painlessly,  in  his  straw.  They  buried  him  at 


SOME     SCOTCH     CELEBRITIES.  23 

Abbotsford  gate  where  he  had  so  long  kept  watch  and  ward,  with 
his  own  marble  likeness  for  monument,  —  and  for  epitaph  — 

"  Beneath  the  sculptured  form  which  late  you  wore, 
Sleep  soundly,  Maida,  at  your  master's  door." 

He  still  lives,  however,  in  the  story  of  Woodstock,  as  Bevis,  the 
gallant  hound  of  Alice  Lee. 

Nimrod  and  Bran  succeeded  Maida,  and  although  they  could 
not  replace  him,  were  fine  fellows.  There  was  also  a  black  grey- 
hound, Hamlet,  who  usually  "  behaved  most  prince-like,"  but  when 
Washington  Irving  visited  Abbotsford,  got  into  mischief  and  killed 
a  sheep.  Nimrod,  too,  was  occasionally  naughty,  but  the  master 
never  failed  to  befriend  his  dogs  when  they  were  in  trouble,  pre- 
ferring to  pay  damages  rather  than  lose  them. 

Besides  the  large  dogs,  there  was  a  whole  retinue  of  smaller 
ones,  among  them  Finette,  a  sensitive,  lady-like  spaniel,  greatly 
favored  by  Lady  Scott ;  and  a  number  of  Dinmont  terriers.  The 
latter  all  bore  "  cruet  names,"  there  being  in  the  house  at  one  time 
a  Pepper,  Mustard,  Ginger,  Catchup,  Soy  and  Spice.  Spicie  was  a 
warm-hearted,  affectionate  little  creature,  and  is  often  mentioned, 
especially  to  Miss  Edgeworth.  Her  little  friend  —  Scott  once 
assured  her  —  is  recovering  from  an  asthmatic  attack,  and  is 
active,  though  thin,  "  extremely  like  the  shadow  of  a  dog  on  the 
wall." 

Other  dogs  there  were,  but  where  is  the  space  to  chronicle 
them  or  their  deeds  ?  A  few  lines  must  be  kept  for  Hinsefeldt, 
the  large  black  family  cat  that  usually  lay  on  the  top  stair  of  the 
book-ladder  in  Sir  Walter's  study,  coming  down  if  Maida  left  the 
room,  to  guard  the  footstool  until  he  should  return.  Irving  saw 
Pussy  at  Abbotsford,  and  describes  her  clapper-clawing  the  dogs 


24  SOME     SCOTCH    CELEBRITIES. 

-an  act  of  sovereignty  which  they  took  in  good  part.  Scott  was 
by  nature  not  very  fond  of  cats,  but  Hinse  reconciled  him  to  the 
race,  so  that  even  in  a  dull  London  hotel,  he  could  enjoy  the  society 
of  a  "  tolerably  conversible  cat,  that  ate  a  mess  of  cream  with  him 
each  morning." 

In  1825  a  great  business  crash  involved  Sir  Walter  in  a  debt, 
to  pay  which  he  wore  out  the  remnant  of  his  life.  Just  before,  he 
had  been  planning  a  return  to  Abbotsford.  "  But  now,"  he  writes, 
"  my  dogs  will  wait  for  me  in  vain.  ...  I  feel  their  feet  on  my 
knees,  I  hear  them  whining  and  seeking  me  everywhere.  This  is 
nonsense,  but  it  is  what  they  would  do  could  they  know  how  things 
may  be."  Two  or  three  years  later,  being  asked  to  write  something 
for  a  Manual  of  Coursing,  he  refused  sadly :  —  "I  could  only  send 
you  the  laments  of  an  old  man,  and  the  enumeration  of  the  number 
of  horses  and  clogs  which  have  been  long  laid  under  the  sod." 

Indeed,  for  master  as  for  petted  friends,  the  end  was  now  ap- 
proaching. He  grew  each  day  more  sad  and  feeble,  until  at  last 
even  his  staghound's  rough  caress  was  more  than  his  spent  frame 
could  bear.  As  a  last  hope  he  was  taken  on  a  voyage  ;  but  the 
remedy  was  powerless,  and  he  hurried  home  to  die.  Half-wild 
with  joy  at  seeing  the  old  familiar  scenes  once  more,  he  finally 
reached  Abbotsford,  and  sank  exhausted  in  his  chair.  There  the 
dogs  gathered  around  him  ;  "  they  began  to  fawn  upon  him  and 
lick  his  hands ;  and  he  alternately  sobbed  and  smiled  over  them 
until  sleep  oppressed  him."  This  sleep  ere  long  deepened  into  a 
slumber  more  profound,  and  death  came  between  Sir  Walter  and 
his  friends  on  earth. 

Contemporary  with  Scott  was  Prof.  John  Wilson,  so  well  known 
to  all  as  Christopher  North.  He,  too,  was  passionately  fond  of 
animals,  and  his  daughter,  Mrs.  Gordon,  has  left  a  delightful 


SOME     SCOTCH    CELEBRITIES. 


25 


account  of  his  pets.  Of  Grog,  chestnut-brown  in  color,  meek  and 
tiny,  "  more  like  a  bird  than  a  dog,"  with  "  little  comical,  turned-out 
feet,  a  cosey,  coaxing,  mysterious,  half-mouse,  half-birdlike  dog," 
who  crept  noiselessly  out  of  life  one  morning,  and  was  found  dead 
on  his  master's  bed.  Of  Bronte,  the  beautiful  Newfoundland,  all 
purple-black,  save  the  white  star  on  his  breast,  who  daily  walked 
to  and  from  the  college  with  his  master,  but  at  last  was  cruelly 
poisoned,  and  died,  leaving  "  no  bark  like  his  in  the  world  of  sound." 

Of    O'  Bronte,     Bronte's    son,    with    "  the    same    still,    serene, 
smiling  and  sagacious  eyes."      Of  Rover,  the  best  beloved,  whose 
master  stood  beside  him  when  he 
died,  "  trying  to  soothe  and  com- 
fort the  poor  animal.    A  very  few 
minutes    before     death 
closed  his  fast-glazing  eye, 
the  professor  said,  '  Rover, 
my  poor  fellow,  give  me 
your  paw.'    The  dying  ani- 
mal    made    an    effort    to 
reach  his  master's  hand  ; 
and    so    thus    parted    my 
father    with    his  favorite, 
as  one  man  taking  leave  of 
another." 

Of  Charlie,  Fido,  Tip, 
and  Fang,  Paris  and  many 
more,  not  to  mention  his 

friendly  canine  friends,  Neptune,  Tickler,  Tory,  Wasp,  and  Juba, 
who  graciously  kept  him  on  their  visiting-list.  Should  any  one 
wish  to  know  more  of  these  dogs,  he  will  find  plenty  to  in- 


(By  permission   of  David   Douglass,  publisher   of  "  Rat  and  His 


26  SOME     SCOTCH    CELEBRITIES. 

terest  him  in  the  writings  of  Christopher  North,  especially  in  that 
pleasant  miscellany  called  the  Nodes  Ambrosiaiuc. 

But  the  pet  most  singular  and  most  fairy-like  of  all,  was  a  spar- 
row, that  for  eleven  years  inhabited  his  study,  dwelling  with  him  in 
an  intimacy   so  entire  that  the  family  declared 
it  was  developing  both  in  size  and  character  by 
the  association,  and  if  it  lived,  would  in  time  be- 
come an  eagle.     To  think  of  the  tiny  creature 
"UABYRAB."  fluttering  around  great  Christopher,  nestling  in 

(sketch  by  Dr.  John       hjs  waistcoat  pocket,  carrying    stray  hairs  from 

Brerwn.)  , 

his  shoulders  to  its  cage,  with  nest  intentions ; 
perching  on  his  inkstand,  even  pecking  at  his  pen  !  What  famili- 
arity, what  audacity  with  genius  !  And  supposing  the  nest  actually 
had  been  made,  with  those  precious  hairs  inwoven,  how  relic-hunters 
would  be  seeking  it  to-day  ! 

The  intimacy  between  this  strangely  dissimilar  pair  is  only  one 
more  proof  that 

"The  brave  are  aye  the  tenderest 
The  loving  are  the  daring ;  " 

and  I  cannot  but  think  that  if  his  books  should  be  forgotten,  the 
legend  of  the  sparrow  would  still  keep  Wilson's  memory  green. 

A  friend  and  brother-author  of  Scott  and  Wilson  was  the 
Ettrick  Shepherd,  James  Hogg.  To  judge  from  his  own  account, 
and  from  that  in  the  Nodes,  his  liking  for  dogs  must  have  equaled 
theirs.  His  perception  of  canine  character  was  acute  ;  and  through 
his  description  we  feel  well  acquainted  with  Hector,  the  Collie. 
According  to  the  Shepherd,  Hector  had  a  sense  of  humor  matched 
only  by  his  politeness,  and  once  even,  when  intensely  amused  by  a 
conversation  between  his  master  and  a  friend,  "  louped  o'er  a  stone 


SOME     SCOTCH    CELEBRITIES. 


wa',"  that  he  might  laugh  unseen  behind  it.  Maida  used  to  grin ; 
why  not  Hector  ? 

With  these  three  lovers  of  the  canine  race  must  be  grouped  a 
fourth,  the  good  physician,  Doctor  John  Brown  of  Edinburgh.  He 
has  written  about  dogs  as  only  Landseer  has  painfed^them — sym- 
pathetically, lovingly,  with  intuitive  comprehension  of  dog-nature. 
"  Rab  and  his  Friends  "  is  an  idyl  that  brings  tears  for  sole  applause ; 
"Our  Dogs"  is  a  Shakespearean  comedy,  over  which  we  smile  or 
softly  laugh.  We  remember  them  as  we  remember  only  the  in- 
tensely alive.  Still  we  see  that  night  procession  where  the  living 
guides  homeward  the  beautiful  dead,  with  faithful  Rab  slow-follow- 
ing behind. 

Then  the  scene  changes,  and  "  Our  Dogs  "  frolic  over  the  stage. 
A  daring  little  fellow  leads  them  — the  one  that  begged  admission 
to  the  band    by  a  look  that  said  Cur  non  ?     Here  is  Toby  the 
Tyke,  with  his  unequaled  tail  and  moral 
excellence ;  here  Wylie,  the  collie,  blithe, 
beautiful  and  kind ;  and  here  Rab  himself, 
whose   baby  outlines    are   imagined   in   a 
funny   sketch    by    Dr.    Brown.      Here    is 
Wasp,  the  dog-of-business  ;  here,  Jock,  "  in- 
sane   from    his   birth,"    as    might    be    ex- 
pected of  a  clog  whose  mother  was  called 
Vampire,  and  whose  father,  Demon.    En- 
ter the  Dutchess,  of  wee  body  and  great 

soul ;  enter  Crab,  John  Pym,  and  Puck ;  pass  as  enter  Dick 
and  Peter,  Jock  and  Bob.  In  fact,  Bob  closes  the  list,  and  his 
character  was  thus  briefly  summed  up  for  me  in  a  room  in  Edin- 
burgh made  sacred  by  mementoes  of  his  master. 

"  Bob,"  said  my  informant,  "  was  the  last  dog  we  had,  and  really 


28 


SOME     SCOTCH    CELEBRITIES. 


he  was  too  much  for  us  all.  He  was  very  pure  bred,  —  so  pure, 
that  my  brother  used  to  say  it  had  driven  the  wits  from  him.  He 
had  no  discretion  whatever,  yet  at  the  same  time  so  much  energy 
that  he  was  always  getting  both  himself  and  us  into  trouble.  He 

became  very  grubby  at 
last,  —  oh  !  very  grubby, 
indeed,  and  we  w  ere 
obliged  to  dispose  of 
him." 

The  Edinburgh  refuge 
for  lost  dogs  found  a  warm 
advocate  in  Dr.  Brown ; 
his  sketch  of  two  little 
terriers  supporting  a  hat 
for  contributions  appeals 
to  us  still  to  pity  the  sor- 


DR.    JOHN   BROWN,   DR.    PF.DDIE,    AND   DANDIE. 
{From  photograph,  by  permission  of  Mr,  Aloffat,  Edinburgh,') 


rows    of    homeless    clogs. 


Even  more  vividly  does  it 
recall  the  artist  —  that  kindest  gentleman  and  friend  who  spent 
his  life  in  caring  for  the  needy,  sick,  and  sad.  Here  in  the  pict- 
ure you  see  him  —  the  same  kind  presence  as  in  life  —  seated 
with  Dr.  Peddie,  and  Dr.  Peddie's  Danclie.  This  photograph 
was  taken  in  1880.  Dandie  belonged  to  Dr.  Peddie,  but  was  a 
great  favorite  with  Dr.  John  whom  (as  both  gentlemen  lived  on 
the  same  street)  he  visited  daily,  never  seeming  content  until  his 
regular  call  was  made. 

Very  unlike  the  homeless,  boneless  paupers  of  Dr.  Brown's 
Plea,  is  an  Edinburgh  dog  now  living,  to  whose  luxurious  habits 
the  following  anecdote,  given  me  by  one  acquainted  with  its  truth, 
bears  witness. 


DRINKING    FOUNTAIN    MONUMENT  TO   GREYFRIARa'    BOBBY,    EDINBURGH. 


SOME     SCOTCH    CELEBRITIES. 


Edinburgh,  though  nominally  on  the  Firth  of  Forth,  lies  really 
some  miles  from  the  sea.  In  summer,  a  bather's  train  is  run  suf- 
ficiently early  to  enable  gentlemen  to  reach  their  offices  in  good 
time.  Mr.  Thomas  Nelson  (of  the  publishers'  firm  Nelson  &  Co., 
Edinburgh,  London,  New  York,  etc.)  was  in  the  habit  of  availing 
himself  of  this  early  train,  accompanied  by  a  favorite  dog,  who  en- 
joyed a  sea-bath  as  much  as  did  his  master.  On  one  occasion  Mr. 
Nelson  was  away  from 
home  for  three  weeks,  and 
on  his  return  was  sur- 
prised to  receive  a  bill 
from  the  railway  company 
for  three  weeks'  first-class 
dog  fares.  On  inquiry,  he 
found  that  during  his  ab- 
sence, the  dog  had  gone 
daily,  as  hitherto,  by  train, 
taken  the  usual  bath,  and 
then  returned  to  town  — 
exactly  as  he  had  been 
used  to  doing  in  his  mas- 

GREYFRIARS'   HOBBY. 

ters  company. 

All  will  agree,  I  fancy,  that  this  anecdote  bears  witness  to  the 
dog's  neat  and  gentlemanly  habits,  as  well  as  to  his  master's 
indulgence. 

Just  off  High  Street  in  Edinburgh,  beyond  George  IV.  Bridge, 
is  a  little  drinking  fountain  with  a  trough  for  dogs  attached.  It  is 
a  point  of  interest  to  more  than  the  thirsty  —  being  unique  both 
in  subject  and  design.  Seated  on  a  pedestal  is  the  image  of  a 
shaggy,  large-eyed  terrier,  whose  averted  gaze  continually  seeks 


,2  SOME     SCOTCH    CELEBRITIES. 

o 

Greyfriars'  churchyard,  across  the  intervening  houses  of  the  street. 
Beneath  are  the  words  : 

GREYFRIARS'  BOBBY. 
From  the  life,  just  before  his  death, 

and  below  this,  the  following  inscription  : 

A  Tribute 
To  the  affectionate  fidelity  of 

GREYFRIARS'  BOBBY. 

In  1858  thii  faithful  dog  followed 

The  remains  of  his  master  to  Crey- 

friars*  churchyard,  and  lingered 

near  the  spot  until  his  death  in  1872. 

IVitk  permission, 

Erected  by  the 

Bareness  Bicrdett-Coiitts. 

The  story  of  leal  Bobby  has  been  often  told,  but  is  well  worth 
telling  once  again.  While  life  sits  warm  at  our  hearts,  we  should 
remember  this  other  little  heart,  so  constant  and  loving.  He  has 
been  sculptured,  painted,  sketched,  memorialized,  as  though  he  were 
royal. 

One  gloomy  day  I  passed  the  memorial  fountain,  and  turned  in 
at  Greyfriars.  It  was  already  closing  time,  still  the  old  curator  let 
me  in,  and  while  searching  for  a  "  potograph  "  as  he  called  it,  of 
Bobby,  told  me  what  he  could  about  him.  Bobby  lies  buried  in  a 
flower-bed  in  front  of  the  church.  For  more  than  a  dozen  years  he 
made  his  master's  grave  his  home  —  a  grave  unmarked  until  his 
own  devotion  became  its  monument.  The  curator  tried  at  first  to 
drive  him  away,  but  without  success,  and  ended  by  letting  him  do 
as  he  would.  A  friendly  restaurant-keeper  gave  him  food;  every 
body  indeed  was  kind,  and  in  his  doggish  heart  he  must  have  felt 


SOME     SCOTCH    CELEBRITIES.  33 

their  kindness  ;  yet  outwardly  he  drew  near  to  none.  Why  should 
he  when  his  real  life  lay  deep  down  in  six  feet  of  earth  ? 

"  Here's  the  potograph  at  last,  ma'am,"  said  the  old  curator, 
"and  here's  his  collar,  if  you'd  like  to  see  it." 

I  touched  reverently  the  half-worn  band  of  leathery  remembering 
how  near  it  had  once  lain  to  a  faithful  little  heart. 

"  They  tried  to  get  his  body  from  me,"  continued  Bobby's  friend, 
"  that  they  might  stuff  the  skin,  and  keep  it  in  the  museum.  But 
I  said  to  myself,  'No,  sirs;  you  mean  it  well,  but  it  ain't  what 
Bobby  'd  'a'  wanted,  and  he's  the  first  call  to  be  axed.'  I  meant  to 
do  the  fair  thing  by  him,  dead  or  alive.  He'd  never  'a'  lain  here 
thirteen  year,  wet  weather  or  dry,  cold  or  warm,  summer  and  winter, 
unless  he'd  meant  it.  You  see,  ma'am,  I  naturally  knew  it  wa'n't 
right  for  his  skin  to  be  that  far  from  his  master's;  so  when  he  died, 
I  just  quietly  took  my  own  way,  and  got  him  under  ground  before 
them  as  wanted  him  knew  rightly  he  was  dead.  And  there  he  is," 
—  pointing  to  the  flower-bed  —  "  all  that's  left  of  him." 

A  soft  Scotch  rain  had  been  falling  while  we  talked,  but  now 
slackened ;  and  a  misty  beam  of  sunlight  pierced  the  clouds  low- 
piled  in  the  west.  Its  pale  gold  lit  up  Bobby's  resting-place,  under- 
scoring, as  it  were,  the  epitaph  just  spoken,  then  glanced  along  the 
gray  front  of  the  church,  and  brought  into  relief  an  ancient  slab, 
where  a  skeleton,  fantastically  poised,  appeared  to  be  keeping 
guard.  A  little  robin  hopped  lightly  to  a  bush  in  the  flower-bed, 
whence  soon  its  clear  vespers  thrilled  the  air.  Death  was  there, 
alas!  yet  overcome  by  life  ;  since  love  is  the  only  real  life,  and  by 
right  of  loving  Bobby  lives  forever. 


77. 
A     SELECT    COMPANY. 


II. 

A   SELECT   COMPANY. 

TN  the  Life  and   Correspondence  of  the  Rev.   Lyman    Beecher, 
-*-     under  the  far-away  date  of  1819,  is  this  item: 

"  Last  week  was  interred  Tom  junior,  with  funeral  honors,  by  the  side  of  old  Tom  of  happy 
memory.  What  a  fatal  mortality  there  is  among  the  cats  of  the  Parsonage  !  Our  Harriet  is  chief 
mourner  always  at  their  funerals.  She  asked  for  what  she  called  an  epithet  for  the  gravestone  of 
Tom  junior,  which  I  gave  as  follows: 

'  Here  lies  our  kit, 
Who  had  a  fit, 

And  acted  queer. 
Shot  with  a  mm, 
Her  race  is  run, 

And  she  lies  here.'" 

The  small  mourner  at  this  small  funeral  has  since  then  had 
many  a  pet  to  love  and  mourn.  Hardly  a  child  but  knows  the 
dogs  whose  stories  were  told  in  Our  Young  Folks  some  twenty 
years  ago:  Carlo,  the  poor,  good,  homely,  loving  mastiff ;  the  New- 
foundland Rover,  who,  like  Christopher  North's  Bronte,  met  a  cruel 
death  by  poison  ;  Stromion,  the  '  pure  mongrel,"  Prince  and  Giglio ; 

37 


A     SELECT    COMPANY. 


lady-like  Florence;  Rag,  the  Skye,  and  Wix,  the  Scotch  terrier; 
all  these  are  familiar  names.  Then,  too,  there  were  cats,  as  we 
have  just  seen;  there  were  birds  ;  there  were  accidental,  happen-so 
pets;  and,  in  fine,  when  we  think  of  Harriet  Beecher  Stowe,  it  is 

not  only  as  the  friend  of 
her  race,  but  also  as  the 
friend  and  advocate  of 
the  great  world  of  ani- 
mals all  around  us. 

Prominent  among  her 
pets  to-day  are  Punch  and 
Missy,  as  you  see  them 
here  ;  photographed  from 
life.  Excellent  sitters 
they  must  have  been, 
even  the  tip  of  their  im- 
petuous tails  being  sub- 
dued into  quiet  for  the 
time.  The  result  is  an 
accurate  likeness  except 
in  the  case  of  Missy, 
whose  ears  were,  unfortu- 
nately, so  far  in  the  fore- 
ground, that  they  appear  twice  their  proper  size. 

Punch  was  a  present  to  Mrs.  Stowe,  and  after  being  selected 
with  great  care,  at  a  noted  dog  fancier's  in  Boston,  was  sent  by  ex- 
press from  that  city  to  Hartford,  Conn.,  in  the  fall  of  1881.  "I  shall 
never  forget,"  says  one  of  the  family,  "  how  droll  and  cunning  he 
looked  in  his  slatted  crate,  trying  every  aperture  with  his  funny 
blunt  nose,  for  a  way  of  escape.  He  soon,  however,  made  friends 


MRS.    HARRIET   BEECHER   STOWE   AT    HOME. 
{By  permission  of  Houghlon,  Alifflin  S*  Co.) 


A     SELECT    COMPANY. 


39 


with  us  all,  after  being  released  from  his  small  wooden  prison,  and 
was  treated  by  all  with  the  consideration  of  a  young  prince." 

For  two  winters  Punch  made  an  almost  royal  progress  to 
Florida  —  his  mistress,  so  named,  in  his  train;  and  was  the  recipi- 
ent of  most  delicate  attentions  on  board  the  steamer  from  officers 
and  crew,  not  to  speak  of  mere  passengers.  He  was  allowed  free 
access  to  the  captain's  private  room.  I  am  not  sure,  indeed,  but 
he  came  to  regard  it  as  his  own  state  apartment,  and  its  crimson 
plush  sofa  as  his  appropriate  seat.  Certain  it  is,  that  he  would 
often  growl,  and  dispute  mildly,  its  possession  with  the  captain. 

In  the  main,  however,  he  was  a  dog  of  great  politeness.  It  is 
on  record  that  when  a  lady-passenger  kept  giving  him  sugared 
almonds,  he  was  too  well-bred  to  express  his  dislike  of  them,  or 
pain  the  giver  by  a  refusal.  So  he  noiselessly  carried  almond  after 
almond  under  the  sofa,  until  quite  a  pile  was  accumulated ;  the 
young  lady,  meanwhile,  supposing  he  had  eaten  them.  This  was 
done  so  adroitly,  and  with  such  evidently  polite  motive,  that  the 
by-standers  were  much  amused. 

Punch  was  very  catholic  in  his  tastes;  not  only  the  captain's 
plush  sofa  found  favor  in  his  sight,  but  also  the  leather  cushion  in 
the  pilot-house,  where  he  spent  much  of  his  time,  apparently  over- 
seeing the  man  at  the  wheel.  It  was  his  habit  in  pleasant  weather 
to  take  long  constitutionals  around  the  deck-house,  keeping  close 
to  its  side,  through  fear  of  the  sea.  Rough  weather  was  sure  to 
send  him  into  retirement  under  a  sofa  in  the  saloon,  whence  occa- 
sionally he  would  creep  out  to  inspect  the  sea —  retiring  again  with 
a  growl  of  disgust  if  the  waves  were  high. 

He  was  greatly  admired  in  Savannah  and  Jacksonville,  espe- 
cially by  the  darkies,  who  often  asked  Miss  Stowe  if  she  would  not 
give  them  "  her  pup."  One  candid  person  of  color  remarked : 


A     SELECT    COMPANY. 


"  Lady,  I  like  your  pup  ;  he  looks  like  he  could  fight !  "  But  this 
very  popularity  brought  disaster  in  its  train.  Like  the  famous 
thief  whose  admiration  for  diamonds  led  him  always,  when  possible, 
to  remove  them  from  their  ignorant  owners  into  his  own  en  light- 

*~J  O 

e  n  e  d  possession  —  so 
somebody —  unknown  — 
admired  Punch  to  the  de- 
gree that  he  appropriated 
him.  After  two  trium- 
phant years  with  Mrs. 
Stowe,  in  September, 
1883,  he  was  stolen;  and 
although  advertised,  al- 
though rewards  were  of- 
fered, nothing  was  heard 
from  him  until  1885.  In 
March  of  this  year,  he  was 
recognized  at  a  dog-show 
in  New  Haven,  a  n  d 
claimed,  to  the  equal  delight  of  himself  and  his  friends.  He  had 
forgotten  neither  mistress  nor  home,  and  his  joy  in  getting  back 
was  unmistakable. 

In  the  meantime,  his  place  had  been  taken,  although  not  filled, 
by  Missy,  a  gift  from  the  same  gentleman  who  had  previously 
sent  Punch.  Unlike  Punch,  however,  she  was  a  foreigner,  hav- 
ing been  imported  from  England.  Miss  Stowe  says:  "It  is  a  dis- 
puted point  as  to  which  is  the  finer  dog  —  I  myself  think  it  six  of 
the  one  to  half  a  dozen  of  the  other." 

To  Punch's  other  claims  to  distinction,  may  be  added  that 
seal  of  public  approval  • —  a  prize  at  a  dog-show.  Both  dogs  have 


MRS.  STOWE'S  DOG  PUNCH. 


A     SELECT    COMPANY.  4I 

collars,  bells,  and  harness  in  abundance.  They  wear  them  when 
out  walking,  and  thus  —  merrily  tinkling  across  the  stage — exit 
Missy,  exit  Punch  to  find  behind  the  scenes,  the  warm,  safe  shelter 
of  home  ! 


It  was  probably  a  strong  sense  of  contrast  that  led  Miss  Eliza- 
beth Stuart  Phelps  to  call  her  pet  terrier  Daniel  Deronda!  He 
was,  however,  so  thoroughly  lovable  and  whole-hearted,  that  on  this 
account,  if  no  other,  he  deserved  the  name.  Was,  I  say  —  for  alas! 
he  has  been  gathered  to  the  dust  now  many  months,  and  only  the 
memory  remains  of  his  doggish  prettiness  and  affectionate  heart. 
Like  Punch,  he  came  from  a  dog-store  in  Boston ;  but  unlike 
him,  was  of  mingled  blood, 
being  blue  Skye  and  King 
Charles.  One  of  his 
merits  was  that  excellent 
thins:  —  in  dosfs  as  in 

O  O 

w  omen  —  a  low,  soft 
voice ;  and  on  this  gen- 
tle "  barkter,"  as  suited 
to  a  lady's  establishment, 
the  fancier  laid  particular 
stress. 

It  added  greatly  to  the 
appearance  of  gentleness 
and  simplicity  in  his 
character,  that  he  would 
readily  accept  the  attentions  of  strangers,  and  walk  with  almost 
any  one  who  asked  him.  This  however  was  the  amiability  of  good 
breeding,  and  did  not  interfere  with  the  fact  that  his  heart  belonged 


MRS.    STOWE  S    DUO    MISSY. 


42 


A     SELECT    COMPANY. 


solely  to  his  mistress.  Such  wisdom  as  he  had  was  of  the  heart 
and  not  the  head.  He  knew  no  tricks  to  win  attention,  he  was  not 
particularly  intellectual  ;  but  by  way  of  counterpoise,  he  was  very 
religious,  and  quite  unsectarian  in  ~his  views.  He  had  an  actual 
mania  for  going  to  church  ;  Catholic,  Methodist,  Presbyterian,  what 
not  —  he  patronized  all  with  that  same  fine  disregard  of  lesser  dis- 
tinctions that  charac- 
terized George  Eliot's 
Deronda. 

Once  he  ran  away 
three  miles  from  home, 
to  attend  services  at  a 
Baptist  church  —  being 
recognized  there  by  dif- 
ferent persons.  When 
the  service  was  over  he 
started  to  return.  But 
the  road  was  long,  he 
was  already  tired,  and 
time  passed  slowly. 
When,  as  the  hours 
went  by,  the  truant 
was  still  absent,  his 

mistress  grew  alarmed;  and  finally,  having  put  the  police  to 
search,  set  out  herself.  By  good  fortune  she  had  not  gone  far 
before,  in  the  middle  of  the  street,  she  saw  the  truant  himself, 
coming  wearily  homeward,  hot,  dusty  and  bewildered.  She  called 
him  by  name,  and  when  he  heard  the  familiar  voice,  and  realized 
that  his  dearest  friend  was  near,  his  look  of  relief  and  recognition 
was  most  wonderful. 


MRS.    PHELPS'S   DOG    DANIEL   DERONDA. 


A     SELECT    COMPANY.  43 

Accidents  come  to  all,  and  one  day,  when  Daniel  was  out 
walking  with  his  mistress,  he  somehow  involved  himself  with  a  car- 
riage, and  the  wheels  passed  over  his  neck.  He  was  picked  up,  a 
limp,  inert  little  body.  Remedies  were  applied,  though  with  small 
hope  of  success ;  but  at  last,  to  the  astonishment  of  all,  he  revived, 
and  erelong  was  as  much  a  dog  as  ever. 

He  was  well  known  in  Gloucester,  and  I  believe  it  was  humor- 
ously proposed  at  one  time,  to  make  him  assistant  janitor  of  the 
East  Gloucester  Temperance  Club.  Gentler  little  assistant  there 
had  never  been  ;  but  the  sus;q;estion  was  not  carried  out.  And 

Oo 

soon  he  passed  away  from   his  friends.     He  met  with  another  acci- 
dent, and,  after  much  suffering,  was  mercifully  put  out  of  pain. 

"  He  loved  me,  and  I  loved  him,"  said  his  mistress.  What 
better  epitaph  could  he  have  ? 

From  Daniel  Deronda  to  George  Eliot;  the  transition  is  easy 
and  natural.  She  herself  maintained  that  she  was  "too  lazy  a  lover 
of  dogs,  to  like  them  when  they  gave  her  much  trouble  "  ;  but  this 
was  mere  theory,  and  the  actual  possession  of  a  pet  brought  her  to 
that  pass  of  mingled  affection  and  resignation  which  most  owners 
of  animals  reach.  A  fine  bull-terrier,  of  great  moral  excellence, 
was  given  her;  and  soon,  with  the  readiness  of  a  large  mind,  she 
adapted  herself  to  the  new-comer's  whims  and  ways,  noting  them 
all  with  the  same  clear  insight  she  gave  to  the  characters  in  her 
books.  It  was  not  lost  upon  her,  that  he  grew  positively  "  radiant 
with  intelligence,  when  there  was  a  savory  morsel  in  question." 
This,  she  thought,  spoke  well  for  him;  she  distrusted  intellect 
where  there  was  "  obtuseness  of  palate." 

The  good  impression  Pug  made  at  first,  was  justified  by  his 
after-conduct ;  and  several  weeks'  experience  enabled  his  mistress 


44  A     SELECT    COMPANY. 

to  write  that  he  daily  developed  new  graces.  He  was  affectionate, 
he  was  companionable,  he  was  all  that  a  clog  should  be  !  In  the 
matter  of  voice,  he  went  a  step  further  than  his  American  cousin  at 
Gloucester ;  for  whereas  Daniel  Deronda  had  a  very  small  bark, 
Pus  had  no  bark  at  all !  "  He  sneezed  at  the  world  in  general, 

o  o 

and  looked  affectionately  "  at  his  mistress. 

Nothing  could  be  more  satisfactory  than  this  state  of  things  — 
devotion  on  Pug's  part,  answering  regard  and  sympathy  on  that 
of  George  Eliot.  Her  feelings,  you  will  notice,  were  very  different 
from  those  of  Shakespeare,  to  whose  mighty  intellect  her  own  is  so 
•often  compared.  This  great  man,  who  had  something  to  say  on 
almost  every  subject,  had  nothing  good  to  say  about  dogs,  and  very 
little  about  cats.  Probably  he  detested  the  one,  and  tolerated  the 
other  ;  at  any  rate,  it  seems  very  doubtful  if  he  cared  for  them  as  a 
man  and  an  author  should.  Luckily  for  all  concerned,  the  world's 
authors  avoid  his  bad  example  and,  almost  without  exception,  have 
their  pets. 

The  Carlyles,  for  instance  :  Thomas  Carlyle  wrote  the  lives  of 
Cromwell  and  Frederick,  and  Schiller,  and  Sterling ;  he  told  us 
about  heroes  and  demigods ;  he  busied  himself  with  the  signs  of 
the  times,  and  the  remains  of  the  past  —  with  Chartism  in  England, 
and  a  Revolution  in  France  ;  he  had  loads  and  piles  of  books  to  be 
read,  hidden  facts  to  search  out,  crabbed  writings  to  decipher;  his 
brain  and  his  hours  were  full  --what  possible  room  could  there  be 
for  anything  else  ?  But  room  there  was,  and  to  spare,  and  years 
after  its  death,  he  could  still  remember  the  dog  whose  little  life  had 
cheered  him;  he  was  fond  of  Fritz,  his  horse;  he  could  pause  to 
notice  Pussy,  or  fling  a  seed  to  Chico,  the  canary. 

And    Mrs.  Carlyle  —  to    judge  of  her    feeling  for    these  little 


MRS.    JANE    WELSH    CARI.YI.E    AND    NERO. 

(Front  photograph  by  Prestorins,  West  Brompton,  England.) 


A     SELECT    COMPANY.  47 

friends,  you  must  read  her  letters,  and  see  for  yourselves  how  large 
a  space  their  ways  and  doings  fill. 

It  is  true,  there  was  some  question  in  the  family  at  first,  whether 
a  clog  could  be  tolerated.  Mr.  Carlyle  was  busy_writing,  and  ner- 
vous—  how  would  it  affect  him?  But  in  1849,  the  little  creature 
came,  found  its  place,  and  filled  it ;  was  "  a  most  affectionate,  lively 
little  dog,  though  otherwise  of  small  merit,  and  little  or  no  training"; 
was  happy,  and,  in  turn,  made  others  happy.  For  the  next  ten 
years,  Nero  and  his  master  had  many  walks  together,  and  "  a 
good  deal  of  small  traffic,  poor  little  animal,  so  loyal,  so  loving,  so 
naive,  and  true  with  what  of  dim  intellect  he  had." 

Undoubtedly  he  was  a  trouble  at  times,  as  what  mortal  thing  is 
not ;  yet,  on  the  whole,  he  was  far  more  of  a  comfort  than  trouble. 
Sometimes  he  was  stolen,  sometimes  he  strayed  away,  and  then 
they  would  suffer  "  the  agonies  of  one's  dog  lost,"  until  the  missing 
one  again  appeared;  for  they  "couid  have  better  spared  a  better 
dog." 

Once,  when  Carlyle  was  away  from  home,  the  prettiest,  wittiest 
letter  imaginable  was  sent  him,  in  Nero's  behalf,  by  Mrs.  Carlyle. 
She  was  kind  enough  to  translate  it  from  Can-ese  into  Eng- 
lish, and  also  to  write  it  out  —  he  being  equal  only  to  Nero  +  his 
mark. 

DEAR  MASTER  —  (thus  it  reads)  — 

I  take  the  liberty  to  write  to  you  myself  (my  mistress  being  out  of  the  way  of  writing  to  you, 
she  says)  that  you  may  know  Columbine  [the  black  cat]  and  I  are  quite  well,  and  play  about  as 
usual.  There  was  no  dinner  yesterday  to  speak  of  ;  I  had  for  my  share  only  a  piece  of  biscuit  that 
might  have  been  round  the  world  ;  and  if  Columbine  got  anything  at  all,  I  didn't  see  it.  I  made  a 
grab  at  one  of  two  small  beings  on  my  mistress's  plate;  she  called  them  heralds  of  the  morn  ;  but 
my  mistress  said,  "  Don't  you  wish  you  may  get  it  ? "  and  boxed  my  ears.  I  wasn't  taken  to  walk 
on  account  of  its  being  wet.  And  nobody  came  but  a  man  for  burial  rates,  and  my  mistress  gave 
him  a  rowing,  because  she  wasn't  going  to  be  buried  here  at  all.  Columbine  and  I  don't  care  where 
we  are  buried.  .  . 


48  A     SELECT    COMPANY. 

(Tuesday  Evening.) 

My  mistress  brought  my  chain,  and  said  "  Come  along  with  me  while  it  shined,  and  I  could  finish 
after."  But  she  kept  me  so  long  in  the  London  Library  and  other  places,  that  I  had  to  miss  the 
post.  An  old  gentleman  in  the  omnibus  took  such  notice  of  me  !  lie  looked  at  me  a  long  time, 
and  then  turned  to  my  mistress,  and  said,  "  Sharp,  isn't  he  ? "  And  my  mistress  was  so  good  as  to 
say  "  O,  yes  !  "  And  then  the  old  gentleman  said  again,  "  I  knew  it !  Easy  to  see  that !  "  And 
he  put  his  hand  in  his  hind  pocket,  and  took  out  a  whole  biscuit,  a  sweet  one,  and  gave  it  me  in 
bits.  I  was  quite  sorry  to  part  with  him,  he  was  such  a  good  judge  of  dogs.  .  .  .  No  more  at 
present  from  your  Obedient  little  dog,  NERO. 

Poor  Nero  was  run  over  by  a  butcher's  cart,  in  October,  1859, 
and,  though  not  killed  outright,  was  never  well  again.  His  mistress 
nursed  and  petted  him  —  his  master  could  not  do  enough ;  but 
neither  care  nor  love  could  avail.  Four  months  later  he  died,  and 
was  buried  in  the  garden,  with  a  small  headstone  to  mark  his  blame- 
less dust.  "  I  could  not  have  believed,"  said  Carlyle,  "my  grief, 
then  and  since,  would  have  been  the  twentieth  part  of  what  it  was." 
And  "nobody  but  myself,"  said  Nero's  mistress,  "can  have  any 
idea  of  what  that  little  creature  has  been  in  my  life;  my  insepa- 
rable companion  during  eleven  years,  ever  doing  his  little  best  to 
keep  me  from  feeling  sad  and  lonely.  Docile,  affectionate,  loyal, 
up  to  his  last  hour." 

I  happened  once  to  pass  the  closed  house  in  Chelsea,  where 
the  Carlyles  lived  so  long.  Just  a  little  way  from  it,  is  a  bronze 
statue  of  Carlyle,  with  kind,  melancholy  face  —  a  fit  memorial,  in 
fitting  place,  to  one  who,  whatever  his  faults,  is  yet  among  the  great- 
est spirits  of  our  age.  Not  long  before  he  was  walking  this  very 
path  ;  now  we  passed  from  the  voiceless  statue  to  the  desolate  house, 
as  from  silence  unto  silence.  The  windows  were  closed,  like  eyes 
with  sealed  lids ;  the  hospitable  door  was  grimly  shut,  and  the 
knocker,  as  we  tried  it,  sent  a  hollow  echo  through  the  hall  within. 


A     SELECT    COMPANY. 


49 


But  the  noonday  sunlight  fell  hot  and  cheery  on  the  doorstep, 
where,  comfortably  ensconced  in  a  corner,  lay  a  black-and-white 
cat.  It  blinked  lazily  at  us,  but  was  too  well  off,  and  I  am  sure 
too  secure,  also,  of  our  friendliness,  to  move. 

So  the  house  which  Mrs.  Carlyle's  friends  used  jestingly  to 
call  "  a  refuge  for  stray  dogs  and  cats,"  still  offered  them  some 
slight  shelter  —  although  master  and  mistress,  and  little  Nero,  all 
were  gone ! 


III. 

PETS   IN   LITERARY   LIFE. 


III. 


PETS     IN     LITERARY     LIFE. 

THE  pets  and  authors  of  the  past  may  be  briefly  glanced  at  on 
our  way  to  those  of  to-day.  We  may  begin  with  the  learned 
Justus  Lipsius,  erstwhile  professor  at  Louvain.  This  worthy  went 
daily  to  his  lecture-room  with  a  retinue  of  dogs,  whose  portraits, 
each  with  a  commemorative  description,  adorned  the  walls  of  his 
study.  Three  have  been  individualized  for  posterity  as  Mopsikins, 
Mopsy  and  Sapphire. 

Tarot,  Franza,  Balassa,  Ciccone,  Musa,  Mademoiselle  and 
Monsieur,  were,  in  their  long-vanished  life-time,  companions 
to  Agrippa,  the  astrologer  and  scholar.  The  knowing  little 
Monsieur  was  permitted,  as  special  favorite,  to  sleep  upon  his 
master's  bed,  eat  from  his  plate,  and  lie  upon  the  table  beside 
his  papers,  while  he  wrote.  He  may  even  have  suggested  to 
Goethe  the  black  poodle  in  Faust,  since,  like  Rupert's  hound 
Boy,  and  Claver's  battle-horse,  he  was  commonly  supposed  to  be 
a  fiend. 

The  creator  of  Faust's  demon-poodle  could  not  endure  dogs  in 
real  life,  and  was  always  scolding  about  their  "  ungeheure  Ton." 

53 


54 


PETS     IN    LITERARY    LIFE. 


As  to  their  character,  he  even  committed    himself  in  this  very  un- 
pleasant epigram  : 


"  Wundern  karmes  mich  nicht  dass 

Menschen  die  Hunde  so  lieben  ; 
Denn  ein  erbarmlicher  Sclmffist,  wie 

Der  Mensch,  so  der  Hund," 

which  has  been  rendered  : 

"  It  cannot  surprise  me  that  men  love  dogs  so  much, 
For  dog,  like  man,  is  a  pitiful,  sneaking  rogue." 

Such  a  disagreeable  sentiment  as  this  —  one  so  unworthy  both 
of  man  and  author  —  requires  an  antidote.  We  find  one  in  these 
lines  of  Herrick  to  his  spaniel  Tracy: 

"  Now  thou  art  dead,  no  eye  shall  ever  see 
For  shape  and  service  spaniel  like  to  thee. 
This  shall  my  love  doe,  give  thy  sad  fate  one 
Teare,  that  deserves  of  me  a  million." 

This  is  all  we  know  of  Tracy,  but  it  suffices  enough.  A  faith- 
ful dog,  a  fond  master —  in  these  words  his  story  is  told. 

Bounce  -  -  named  most  suggestive  —  belonged  to  Alexander 
Pope ;  Bean,  to  the  gentler  poet,  Covvper.  Goldsmith  had  a  dog, 
of  course,  and  equally  of  course  it  was  a  poodle.  No  creature  less 
comic  would  serve  his  turn.  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds  tells  a  story  of 
the  pair  which  reads  like  a  fragment  from  the  Vicar  of  Wakefield  : 
how  one  morning  he  called  on  the  improvident  author,  rather  expect- 
ing to  find  him  in  low  spirits,  and  found  him,  instead,  at  his  table, 
alternately  writing  a  few  words,  and  looking  over  at  the  poodle 
which  he  had  made  stand  on  its  hind  legs  in  a  corner  of  the  room. 


PETS    IN    LITERARY    LIFE. 


55 


In  this  fashion  the  impecunious  one  was  amusing  himself;  and 
the  great  artist  looked  on,  no  less  amused  in  truth,  and  pleasantly 
sympathetic.  If  only  he  had  painted  the  scene,  one  wishes. 

Very  different  in  temperament  was  Lord  Byron.  Practically, 
he  agreed  with  Mme.  de  Stae'l  in  liking  dogs  the  better,  the  more 
he  knew  of  men.  He  seems  to  have  had  as  friendly  a  feeling  for 
the  animal  world  as  his  contemporary,  Scott,  although  showing  it 
in  a  more  whimsical  fashion.  Scott  would  never  have  traveled 
with  a  private  menagerie,  but  Byron  carried  with  him  from  England 
to  Italy,  "  ten  horses,  eight  enormous  dogs,  three  monkeys,  five  cats, 
an  eagle,  a  crow  and  a  falcon." 

Dogs  were  his  favorites  ;  they  were  friends  whose  affection 
could  be  trusted,  and  whose  criticism  he  had  not  to  fear.  Boat- 
swain is  almost  as  widely  known  as  his  master.  No  one  visits 
Newstead  without  seeing  his  picture  in  the  dining-room,  and  in  the 
grounds  his  grave,  with  the  famous  epitaph  : 

NEAR  THIS  SPOT- 
ARE   DEPOSITED  THE   REMAINS   OF  ONE 

WHO  POSSESSED  KEAUTY  WITHOUT  VANITY, 
STRENGTH  WITHOUT  INSOLENCE, 

COURAGE  WITHOUT  FEROCITY, 

AND  ALL  THE  VIRTUES  OF  MAN  WITHOUT  HIS  VICES. 

THIS  PRAISE,  WHICH  WOULD  UK  UNMEANING  FLATTERY 

IF  INSCRIBED  OVER  HUMAN  ASHES, 

IS  BUT  A  JUST  TRIBUTE  TO  THE  MEMORY  OF 

BOATSWAIN,  A  DOG, 

WHO   WAS    BORN    AT    NEWFOUNDLAND,    MAY,    1803, 
AND   DIED    AT   NEWSTEAD   ABBEY,    Nov.     18,    1808. 

As  this  dog  was  the  friend  of  his  youth,  so  Lion  was  the  com- 
panion of  his  later  days  in  Greece.  Major  Parry  says  that  "  riding, 
or  walking,  or  sitting,  or  standing,"  they  were  never  apart.  "  His 


PETS     IN    LITERARY    LIFE. 


most  usual  phrase  was,  '  Lyon,  you  are  no  rogue,  Lyon,'  or  '  Lyon,' 
his  lordship  would  say,  '  thou  art  an  honest  fellow,  Lyon.'  The 
dog's  eyes  sparkled,  and  his  tail  swept  the  floor  as  he  sat  with  his 
haunches  on  the  ground.  '  Thou  art  more  faithful  than  men,  Lyon  ; 
I  trust  thee  more.'  Lyon  sprang  up  and  barked,  and  bounded 
round  his  master,  as  much  as  to  say,  '  You  may  trust  me.'  ' 

Faithful  to  the  last, 
he  watched  over  Byron's 
death-bed,  and  then  went 
to  England,  where  he 
lived  and  died,  an  hon- 
ored pensioner,  in  the 
house  of  Mrs.  Leigh. 

Mrs.  Radcliffe,  whose 
novels  delighted  and  ter- 
rorized our  grandmothers, 
had  two  dogs,  called  Fan 
and  Dash.  Fan  had  been 
a  mangy,  poverty-stricken 
beast,  condemned  by  its 
rustic  owner  to  be  hung. 
In  a  lucky  hour  the  nov- 
elist happened  by,  pur- 
chased the  guiltless  crim- 
inal for  half  a  crown  ;  and  Fan,  cured  of  the  mange,  grown 
plump  and  silky,  became  so  beautiful  a  dog  that  Queen  Char- 
lotte, when  out  walking  with  her  brood  of  young  princesses, 
would  stop  to  notice  her.  On  one  of  these  occasions  Fan  and  one 
of  the  royal  spaniels  caught  simultaneously  the  ends  of  a  long  bone  ; 
and  for  some  distance  this  foundling  of  the  people  and  the  pet  of 


LORD   BYRON    AND   HIS   DOG    LYON. 


PETS    IN    LITERARY    LIFE.  57 

royalty  pranced  on  amicably  together,  holding  the  bone  between 
them  ! 

Dash  was  a  poor  street  dog  whose  leg  had  been  run  over  and 
broken.  He  was  taken  in  a  coach  to  the  doctor's,  the  leg  was  set, 
health  and  strength  returned,  and  Dash  was  more  than  himself 

O 

again,  for  now  he  was  "  Mrs.  Radcliffe's  dog." 

Another  Dash  lived  first  with  Thomas  Hood,  then  with  Charles 
Lamb ;  he  made  such  a  slave  of  the  latter,  that  finally  Miss  Lamb 
wrote  to  Mr.  Patmore,  entreating  him  to  remove  the  dog,  "  if  only 
out  of  charity  ;  for  if  we  keep  him  much  longer,  he  will  be  the 
death  of  Charles." 

The  transfer  took  place,  and  the  late  victim's  spirits  rose  to 
high-water  mark  soon  afterwards  in  this  whimsical,  charming  letter: 

DEAR  PATMORE  : 

Excuse  my  anxiety,  but  how  is  Dash?  .  .  .  Goes  he  muzzled  or  apesto  ore?  Are  his  in- 
tellects sound,  or  does  he  wander  a  little  in  his  conversation?  You  cannot  be  too  careful  to  watch 
the  first  symptoms  of  incoherence.  The  first  illogical  snarl  he  makes,  off  with  him  to  St.  Luke's. 
.  .  Try  him  with  hot  water  :  if  he  won't  lick  it  up,  it  is  a  sign  he  does  not  like  it.  Does  his 
tail  wag  horizontally  or  perpendicularly  ?  That  has  decided  the  fate  of  many  dogs  in  Enfield.  Is 
his  general  deportment  cheerful  ?  I  mean,  when  he  is  pleased  —  for  otherwise  there  is  no  judging. 
You  can't  be  too  careful.  Has  he  bit  any  of  the  children  yet?  If  he  has,  have  them  shot,  and 
keep  him  for  curiosity,  to  see  if  it  was  the  hydrophobia.  .  .  .  You  might  pull  out  his  teeth  (if 
he  would  let  you),  and  then  you  need  not  mind  if  he  were  as  mad  as  Bedlamite.  ...  I  send 
my  love  in  a to  Dash.  C.  LAMB. 

A  great  contrast  to  this  tyrant  was  Mouse,  the  loving,  jealous 
little  terrier  of  Douglas  Jerrold.  A  source  of  much  gentle  mirth 
while  her  master  was  well  and  strong,  she  did  her  utmost  to  com- 
fort his  dying  hours.  Once  more,  as  she  nestled  beside  him,  his 
thin  hand  rested  on  her  head  ;  once  more,  and  for  the  last  time,  he 
called  her  faintly  by  name  ;  then  they  removed  her,  and  in  a  few 
hours  Mouse  was  masterless. 


5 8  PETS    IN    LITERARY    LIFE. 

Horace  Walpole's  dogs  furnished  many  an  amusing  item  for 
his  letters,  and  diverted  his  friends  no  less  than  himself.  "  Sense 
and  fidelity, "said  he,  "  are  wonderful  recommendations  ;  when  one 
meets  with  them  ...  I  cannot  think  the  two  additional  legs 
are  any  drawback." 

Tory,  Patapan,  Rosette,  Touton  and  a  host  of  others,  were 
the  living  illustrations  in  his  home  of  this  belief. 

Tory,  the  "  prettiest,  fattest,  dearest  "  King  Charles,  might  have 
been  leaner  with  advantage  to  himself,  for  a  wolf  snapped  him 
up  as  he  was  waddling  behind  his  master's  carriage  in  the 
Alps. 

Patapan  is  the  little  aristocrat  whom  you  see  beside  Mr.  Wai- 
pole  in  the  picture.  The  whims  of  "  His  Patapanic  Majesty"  were 
all  indulged,  his  tastes  consulted  ;  his  master  idolized,  and  royalty 
itself  caressed  him  ;  finally  his  vanity,  already  large,  was  puffed  out 
like  a  balloon,  by  Mr.  Chute's  poem  in  his  praise.  Thus  it  sums 
up  his  perfections: 

"  Pata  is  frolicsome,  and  smart 

As  Geoffrey  once  was  —  (oh  !  my  heart), 

He's  purer  than  a  turtle's  kiss, 

And  gentler  than  a  little  miss  ; 

A  jewel  for  a  lady's  ear, 

And  Mr.  Walpole's  pretty  dear." 

When  the  pretty  dear  was  frisking  through  Strawberry  Hill, 
he  may  very  likely  have  brushed  in  his  frolics  against  a  great 
bowl  of  blue  and  white  china  occupying  a  place  of  honor  in  one 
of  the  rooms. 

But  the  label  would  not  have  told  him,  as  it  does  us,  that 
this  was  the  veritable  "  Tub  of  Gold  Fishes"  in  which  the  favorite 
cat  of  Thomas  Grey  was  drowned.  "  Demurest  of  the  tabby  kind  " 


SIR   HORACE   WAI.POLF.    AND   PATAPAN. 


PETS    IN    LITERARY    LIPE.  6 1 

-Selima  gazed  at  the  fish,  and  longed;  extended  "a  whisker  first 
and  then  a  claw  ;  "  and  then  — 

"  The  slippery  verge  her  feet  beguiled, 
She  tumbled  headlong  in." 

She  may  have  found  some  comfort  —  since  drown  she  must  — 
in  the  vase  being  genuine  old  china  ;  just  as  Clarence  preferred 
drowning  in  Malmsey  wine  to  water  ;  but  her  best  comfort  —  had 
she  known  it  — was  the  poem  to  be  written  on  her  fate,  the  poem 
which  still  points  her  morals  and  adorns  her  tale. 

No  one,  in  this  group  of  literary  people,  was  so  intimate  with  cats 
as  Southey.  He  delighted  in  them,  he  admired  them,  he  under- 
stood them,  and  he  thought  no  house  quite  furnished  unless  it 
had  a  baby  and  a  kitten  ! 

It  was  to  his  little  daughter  Edith  that  this  author  dedi- 
cated his  history  of  the  cats  of  Greta  Hall,  which  he  intended 
to  supplement  by  the  Memoirs  of  Cats'  Eden.  Unfortunately 
for  us  all,  the  last  was  never  finished.  The  most  delightful  of 
philofelists  —  to  use  his  own  coinage — he  tells  the  story  of  his 
cats  con  amore ;  from  the  fate  untimely  of  Ovid,  Virgil,  and 
Othello,  to  the  merited  honors  heaped  upon  Lord  Nelson,  a  great 
carrot-colored  cat  promoted  by  him  to  the  highest  rank  in  the 
peerage,  through  all  its  degrees,  under  the  titles  of  His  Serene 
Highness,  the  Archduke  Rumpelstilzchen,  Marquis  Mac-Bum, 
Earl  Tomlemagne,  Baron  Raticide,  Waswlher  and  Skaratchi. 
Felicitous  titles,  are  they  not? 

But  how  the  list  lengthens  !  Only  a  word  can  be  given  to  Emily 
Bronte  with  her  faithful,  sullen  mastiff  Keeper ;  to  Charlotte  Bronte, 
with  her  black-and-white  curly-haired  Flossy ;  to  Bulwer,  with  his 
Newfoundland  Terror,  and  his  better  loved  Andalusian  horse;  to 


62 


PETS    IN    LITERARY    LIFE. 


Mrs.  Bulwer  —  herself  a  beautiful  spoiled  child —  with  her  beauti- 
ful spoiled  Blenheim,  Fairy,  described  by  Disraeli  as  "  no  bigger 
than  a  bird  of  paradise,  and  quite  as"  brilliant  "  —  a  Fairy  that  had 
its  own  printed  visiting  cards,  and  paid  fashionable  calls  with  its 
mistress  ;  to  Charles  Reade,  of  keen  wit  and  large  heart,  who  petted 
squirrels,  hares,  and  deer,  as  well  as  dogs,  who  wept  when  the  exi- 
gencies of  Never  too  Late  to  Mend  required  him  to  kill  Carlo,  and 
who  humorously  advised  Ouida  to  name  one  of  her  dogs  Tonic,  as 

he   was  "  a  mixture   of 
steal  and  w(h)ine." 

Charles  Kingsley's 
pets,  and'  those  of 
Charles  Dickens,  have 
been  so  often  and  so 
fully  described,  that 
any  further  description 
seems  superfluous. 
Timber,  Turk  and 
Linda,  Mrs.  Bouncer, 
Bumble  and  Sultan, 
were  only  a  few  of 
his  many  dogs ;  while 
Dick  the  canary  —  "best  of  birds" — a  succession  of  kittens,  an 
eagle,  and  various  ravens,  were  among  the  pets  that  kept  matters 
lively  at  Gadshill. 

Of  the  ravens,  the  most  famous  was  Grip,  who  sat  for  his  por- 
trait in  Barnaby  Rudge,  and  whose  stuffed  body  still  exists. 

There  are  no  brighter  letters,  no  finer  poems  in  literature,  than 
those  which  "  Flush,  my  Dog,"  called  out  from   Mrs.  Browning  - 
letters  and  verse   so  vivid,  so  delicately  discriminative,  that   they 


CHARLES   DICKENS'S   PET   RAVEN,   GRIP. 


PETS    IN    LITERARY    LIFE.  63 

amply  supply  the  lack  of  other  portraiture,  and  in  them  Flush  still 
lives.     Listen : 

"  Like  a  lady's  ringlets  brown, 
Flow  thine  silken  ears  adown 

Either  side  demurely 
Of  thy  silver-suited  breast, 
Shining  out  from  all  the  rest 

Of  thy  body  purely. 

"  Darkly  brown  thy  body  is 
Till  the  sunshine  striking  this, 

Alchemize  its  dullness  ; 
When  the  sleek  curls  manifold 
Flash  all  over  into  gold, 

With  a  burnished  fullness. 


"  Leap  !  thy  broad  tail  waves  a  light; 
Leap  !  thy  slender  feet  are  bright, 

Canopied  in  fringes. 
Leap  !  those  tasseled  ears  of  thine 
Flicker  strangely  fair  and  fine 

Down  their  golden  inches." 

How  clearly  we  see  him  with  that  gentlest  mistress,  bathed  in 
the  warm,  sweet  sunshine  of  the  past!  But  there  were  other  than 
sunny  days  —  long,  weary  days  in  a  sick-room,  where  — 

"  This  dog  only  waited  on, 
Knowing  that  when  light  is  gone, 
Love  remains  for  shining. 

"  Other  dogs  in  thymy  dew 

Tracked  the  hares,  and  followed  through 

Sunny  moor  or  meadow  — 
This  dog  only  crept  and  crept 
Next  a  languid  cheek  that  slept, 

Sharing  in  the  shadow." 


64  PETS     IN    LITERARY    LIFE. 

What  wonder  that  she  returned  his  love  with  — 

"  more  love  again 

Than  dogs  often  take  of  men  "  ? 

Flush  was  a  gift  from  Miss  Mitford,  another  authoress  devoted 
to  dogs  ;  and  the  rival  claims  of  these  ladies  for  their  pets,  may 
still  pleasantly  amuse  us.  "  How  is  your  Flushie  ?  "  inquires  Miss 
Mitford.  "  Mine  becomes  every  day  more  and  more  beautiful,  and 
more  and  more  endearing.  His  little  daughter  Rose  is  the  very 
moral  of  him,  and  another  daughter  (a  puppy  four  months  old,  your 
Flushie's  half-sister)  is  so  much  admired  in  Reading  that  she  has 
already  been  stolen  four  times  —  a  tribute  to  her  merit  which  might 
be  dispensed  with ;  and  her  master  having  offered  ten  pounds 
reward,  it  seems  likely  enough  that  she  will  be  stolen  four  times 
more.  They  are  a  beautiful  race,  and  that  is  the  truth  of  it." 

Now  hear  Miss  Barrett  (as  she  was  at  this  time)  telling  Mr. 
Home: 

"  Never  in  the  world  was  another  such  dog  as  my  Flush.  Just  now,  because  after  reading 
your  note,  I  laid  it  down  thoughtfully  without  taking  anything  else  up,  he  threw  himself  into  my 
arms,  as  much  as  to  say,  '  Now  it's  my  turn.  You're  not  busy  at  all  now.'  He  understands  every 
thing  I  say,  and  would  not  disturb  me  for  the  world.  Do  not  tell  Miss  Mitford—  but  her  Flush, 
(whom  she  brought  to  see  me)  is  not  to  be  compared  to  mine  !  quite  animal  and  dog  —  natural,  and 
incapable  of  my  Flush's  hyper-cynical  refinement." 

"My  Flush,"  she  writes  elsewhere,  "my  Flush,  who  is  a 
gentleman." 

Our  next  glimpse  of  this  well-bred  favorite  is  due  to  Mr.  West- 
wood,  a  friend  and  correspondent  of  the  lady.  "  On  one  occasion," 
he  says,  "  she  had  expressed  to  me  her  regret  at  Flush's  growing 
plumpness,  and  I  suppose  I  must  have  been  cruel  enough  to  sug- 


PETS    IN    LITERARY    LIFE.  65 

gest  starvation  as  a  remedy,  for   her  next  letter  opens  with  an 
indignant  protest: 

"Starve  Flush!  Starve  Flush!  My  dear  Mr.  Westwood,  what  are  you  thinking  of?  .  .  . 
He  is  fat,  certainly  —  but  he  has  been  fatter  .  .  .  and  he  may,  therefore,  become  thinner. 
And  then  he  does  not  eat  after  the  manner  of  dogs.  I  never  saw  a  dog  with  such  a  lady-like  appe- 
tite. To  eat  two  small  biscuits  in  succession  is  generally  more  than  he  is  inclined  to  do.  When 
he  has  meat  it  is  only  once  a  day,  and  it  must  be  so  particularly  well  cut  up  and  offered  to  him  on 
a  fork,  and  he  is  so  subtly  discriminative  as  to  differences  between  boiled  mutton  and  roast  mutton, 
and  roast  chicken  and  boiled  chicken,  that  often  he  walks  away  in  disdain,  and  will  have  none  of 
it.  ... 

"  My  nearest  approach  to  starving  Flush  is  to  give  general  instructions  to  the  servant  who 
helps  him  to  his  dinner,  '  not  to  press  him  to  eat.'  I  know  he  ought  not  to  be  fat —  I  know  it  too 
well  —  and  his  father  being,  according  to  Miss  Mitford's  account,  '  square,'  at  this  moment,  there  is 
an  hereditary  reason  for  fear.  So  he  is  not  to  be  '  pressed.'  " 

Flush  left  England  with  his  mistress  after  her  marriage,  and  lived 
to  a  good  old  age  in  her  Italian  home.  His  doggish  heart  was 
never  torn  by  seeing  younger,  more  agile  pets  preferred  to  himself. 
Secure  in  the  only  affection  he  valued,  he  passed  quietly  out  of 
life;  and  nothing  now  remains  of  his  mortality  save  a  lock  of  hair, 
which  was  treasured  by  Robert  Browning. 

One  word  more  of  Miss  Mitford.  Her  chief  favorite  was  the 
greyhound  Mossy,  who  died  in  1819.  She  wrote  an  account  of  his 
death  which  no  one  ever  saw  until  it  was  found,  after  her  own 
death,  sealed  in  an  envelope,  together  with  some  of  his  hair.  It 
repeats  the  well-known  burden  of  the  faithful  lamenting  the  faith- 
ful :  "  No  human  being  was  ever  so  faithful,  so  gentle,  so  generous, 
and  so  fond.  I  shall  never  love  anything  half  so  well." 

Robert  Browning  declared  himself  a  partisan  of  cats  and  owls 

-tastes  which  have  suggested  different  gifts  from  friends.     An 

owl  inkstand  on  his  desk  seemed  to  be  brooding  over  the  thoughts 

whisked  out  of  it  by  Browning's  pen ;  an  owl  paper-weight  steadied 


66 


PETS    IN    LITERARY    LIFE, 


these  same  thoughts  when  transferred  to  paper.  Stuffed  owls, 
pictured  owls,  looked  down  upon  him  as  he  wrote.  With  regard  to 
cats,  who  have  much  secret  affinity  with  owls,  his  opinions  were 
equally  liberal,  and  he  notes  with  the  eye  of  an  artist  their  wonderful 
grace  and  beauty. 

A  friend  of  the  Brownings  in  Florence,  Miss  Isa  Blagden,  had 
many  pets  of  her  own,  charitably  gathered  from  the  ranks  of  the 

distressed.  She  is  proba- 
bly best  known  to  Ameri- 
can readers  by  her  poem 
to  Bushie,  the  favorite  dog 
of  Charlotte  Cushman. 

Sensitive,  nervous  and 
loving  was  Bushie,  her 
greatest  pleasure  being 
the  society  of  her  mis- 
tress, her  greatest  griev- 
ance being  left  at  home 
when  the  family  went 
out  riding.  In  this  case 
Bushie's  grief  was  hysteri- 
cal, and  required  careful  soothing  ere  it  abated. 

After  giving,  in  her  fourteen  years  of  life,  "  the  minimum  of 
trouble  and  the  maximum  of  pleasure,"  Bushie  died  in  Rome,  in 
1867,  and  was  buried  in  the  garden  of  Miss  Cushman's  house. 
On  the  broken  column  which  marked  the  spot  were  cut  the  words  : 

BUSHIE,  COMES  FIDELLISSIMA. 

If  further  epitaph  be  needed,  this  verse  from  Miss  Blagden's 
poem  will  suffice  : 


BUSHIE,   THE   FAVORITE   DOG   OF   CHARLOTTE 
CUSHMAN. 


PETS    IN    LITERARY    LIFE.  67 

"  From  all  our  lives  some  faith,  some  trust, 

With  thy  dear  life  is  o'er  ; 
A  lifelong  love  lies  in  thy  dust : 

Can  human  grave  hide  more  ?  " 

Landor  and  his  dogs  made  another  well-knowrLgroup  in  Flo- 
rence. Of  Landor,  Lowell  says  that,  "  there  was  something  of 
challenge  even  in  the  alertness  of  his  pose,  and  the  head  was  often 
thrown  back  like  that  of  a  boxer  who  awaits  a  blow."  This  fine, 
defiant  old  head  was  often  seen  lovingly  bent  towards  Parigi,  Po- 
mero,  and  Giallo — dogs  of  pedigree  and  sense,  who  cheered  his 
solitude,  or  adorned  his  social  hours. 

Pomero,  a  Pomeranian,  with  feathery  white  hair  and  bright  eyes, 
lived  in  England  with  Landor,  in  the  town  of  Bath.  All  knew  him 
there,  and  saluted  him,  while  he  in  return  barked  sociably  to  all. 
"  Not  for  a  million  of  money  would  I  sell  him, "cried  Landor.  "  A 
million  would  not  make  me  at  all  happier,  and  the  loss  of  Pomero 
would  make  me  miserable  for  life." 

This  loss  nevertheless  soon  came.  "  Seven  years,"  wrote  his 
master,  "  we  lived  together,  in  more  than  amity.  He  loved  me  to 
his  heart  —  and  what  a  heart  it  was  !  Mine  beats  audibly  while  I 
write  about  him."  Over  his  "  blameless  dust  "  was  inscribed  this 
epitaph,  so  tender  and  sweet  in  its  Latin,  that  translation  seems  a 
wrong : 

"  O  urna  !  nunquam  sis  tuo  ernta  portuls  : 
Cor  intus  est  fidele,  nam  cor  est  canis. 
Vale,  portule  !    aetemumque,  Pomero!  vale. 
Sed,  sidatur,  nostri  memor." 

Giallo,  also  a  Pomeranian,  was  a  gift  from  the  sculptor  Story. 
He  became  a  great  favorite  with  his  master,  who  would  often  talk 
doggerel  to  please  him,  and  maintained  that  he  was  the  best  critic 


68 


PETS    IN    LITERARY    LIFE. 


in  Italy.  "  Giallo  and  I  think"  so  and  so,  he  would  often  say;  or, 
"  I  think  so,  and  Giallo  quite  agrees."  That  he  was  quite  fit  for 
heaven,  was  another  belief  with  his  master.  Who  knows  ?  Perhaps 
he  was  ! 

Victor   Hugo's  happy  family  comprised    both   cats  and  dogs. 
There  was  Chougna,  the  watch-dog,  and  Senat,  the  greyhound,  whose 

collar  bore  the  inscription :  "  I 
wish  some  one  would  take  me 
home.  Who  is  my  master  ? 
Hugo.  What's  my  name? 
Senat."  There  were  the  Angoia 
kittens,  Gavroche  I.  and  Gav- 
roche  II.,  and  Mouche,  the  great 
black-and-white  cat ;  the  latter, 
according  to  an  intimate  friend, 
was  "  silencieuse,  d'efiante,  t'ene- 
breuse,  sinistre  —  the  cat  of  the 
prison,  and  of  exile  "  —  attributes  confirmed  by  her  portrait. 

From  sheer  force  of  contrast,  both  Mouche  and  Hugo  must 
have  enjoyed  —  had  they  known  him  —  General  Muff,  the  stately 
and  affable  favorite  of  an  American  authoress  (Miss  Mary  L. 
Booth).  I  called  upon  this  lady  one  day  to  request  of  her  an 
introduction  to  the  General  ;  but  he  took  matters  into  his  own 
paws,  as  it  were,  and  introduced  himself  before  she  could  appear. 
Exquisitely  dignified  and  urbane,  his  composure  was  not  ruffled 
by  the  very  wildest  gambols  of  a  Persian  kitten,  who  darted, 
glanced  and  flashed  hither  and  thither  in  the  room  like  flame. 
He  wore  the  famous  Fayal  collar  in  which  he  was  photographed. 
He  wore  it  because  of  artistic  preference,  I  suppose  —  certainly 
not  because  he  had  nothing  else  to  wear ;  for  I  saw  in  his  own 


MOUCHE,   VICTOR    HUGO'S   CAT. 


PETS    IN    LITERARY    LIFE. 


69 


particular  wardrobe  collars   of  all   kinds  and  colors,  from  dainty 
ribbon  to  Russia  leather, 

May  it  be  long  before  Muff's  gracious  personality  requires  an 
epitaph  !  but  when  that  time  comes,  the  following  lines  will  apply 
to  him  as  fitly  as  to  the  one  for  whom  they  were  written  —  the  poet 
Whittier's  cat,  Bathsheba: 

"  Whereat 
None  said  '  Scat ! ' 
Better  cat 
Never  sat 
On  a  mat, 
Or  caught  a  rat, 
Than  this  cat. 
Requiescat!  " 

All  who  are  familiar  with  the  poem  by  Matthew  Arnold,  on 
Geist's  Grave,  or  another,  on  Kaiser,  Dead,  know  the  story,  told  as 
he  alone  could  tell  it,  of 
this  great  author's  pets. 

The  dachshund  Geist 
lived  four  brief  years, 
then  "  humbly  laid  "  him 
"down  to  die."  Dearly 
loved,  remembered  al- 
ways —  often  and  often 
would  his  friends  recall 
his  "  liquid,  melancholy 


GENERAL   MUFF,   MISS   MARY   L.    BOOTH'S   CAT. 


eye,"  his  wistful  face  at 

the  window,  the  scuffle  of 

his  feet  upon  the  stair,  and  his  "  small,  black  figure  on  the  snow." 

But    "  there    is    no    photograph    of    poor    little   Geist,"    says    Mr. 

Arnold,  "  except  one   taken  after  his  death,  which  gives  pleasure 


70  PETS    IN    LITERARY    LIFE. 

to  us,  but  could  give  it  to  no  one  else.  There  is,  however,  an  ex- 
cellent portrait  of  another  dog  of  mine,  Max,  in  a  birthday  book 
from  my  poems,  but  it  is  weighted  by  a  very  bad  portrait  of  his 
master." 

This  was  the  Max  of  the  poem,  who  "  with  downcast,  reverent 
head  "  had  looked  upon  "  Kaiser,  dead  "  — -  "  Kaiser,"  once  the  blith- 
est, happiest  of  dogs,  supposed  at  first  to  be  pure  dachshund,  until 
at  length  with  — 

"  The  collie  hair,  the  collie  swing. 
The  tail's  indomitable  ring, 

The  eye's  unrest  — 
The  case  was  clear ;  a  mongrel  thing 

'  Kai '  stood  confest." 

All  the  same  — 

"  Thine  eye  was  bright,  thy  coat  it  shone  ; 
Thou  hadst  thine  errands  off  and  on  ; 
In  joy  thine  last  morn  flew  ;  anon, 

A  fit  I     All's  over  ; 
And  thou  art  gone  where  Geist  hath  gone, 

And  Toss  and  Rover." 

It  is  the  fashion  of  mortality  to  pass  away  —  but  that  does  not 
alter  the  sadness  of  it  —  of  losing  what  we  love.  As  surely  as  we 
have  friends  or  pets,  so  surely  shall  we  know  the  pain  of  loss  —  fort- 
unate only  if  there  has  been  between  us  such  true  love  that  the 
memory  thereof  abides.  Such  love  there  was  between  Mr.  Edmund 
Yates  and  Nelly,  the  story  of  whose  life  he  told  me  in  the  following 
letter  of  September,  1887  : 

"  Your  letter  finds  me  mourning  the  loss  of  the  one  pet  animal 
of  my  life.  In  the  year  1878,  having  taken  a  country  place,  and 
being  in  want  of  an  animal  as  companion,  I  went  to  the 


PETS    AV   LITERARY    LIFE. 


Home  at  Battersea,  and  on  visiting  the  kennels,  was  at  once  struck 
with  the  piteous  and  earnest  expression  on  the  face  of  a  female 
collie,  looking  up,  with  many  others,  through  the  wire  netting;  an 
expression  which  said,  as  plainly  as  possible,  '  Take  me  out  of  this, 
for  Heaven's  sake,  and  I  will  be  loving  and  true.'  I  could  learn 
nothing  of  her  previous  history,  but  I  paid  a  sovereign  for  her,  and 
took  her  away  with  me  in  a  cab;  and  from  that  hour  to  the  day  of 
her  death,  just  two 
months  ago,  Nelly,  as  I 
called  her,  was  the  light 
of  my  household,  and 
won  the  admiration  and 
love  of  all  who  saw  her. 
"  Under  kind  treat- 
m  e  n  t  she  developed 
into  a  very  handsome 

dog,  never  large,  but  wonderfully  graceful,  leaping  and  bounding 
like  a  deer.  Her  back  was  a  reddish-brown,  her  chest  and  paws 
beautifully  white ;  she  looked  bright  and  intelligent,  and  her  eyes 
had  a  certain  wistful  expression,  which  is  well  reproduced  in  the 
accompanying  photograph.  She  was  not  particularly  clever.  She 
seemed  to  say,  like  one  of  Tennyson's  heroines  : 

'"I  cannot  understand,  I  love.' 

"  She  was  always  with  me,  and  in  places  which  I  frequent,  she 
was  thoroughly  well-known  ;  she  lay  opposite  me  in  the  carriage, 
on  the  deck  of  my  steam-launch,  with  her  nose  up  in  the  air,  snif- 
fing the  fresh  breeze  to  windward.  ('  See  the  kind-eyed  old  collie ; 
on  the  deck,  in  the  sunshine,  she  loves  to  recline,'  sang  my  friend 
Ashby-Sterry  of  her  in  one  of  his  pretty  Lazy  Minstrel  Lays.) 


NEI.LY,   THE   DOG   UK   EDMUND   YATES. 


72  PETS    IN    LITERARY    LIFE. 

"  She  followed  me  in  my  long  rides  on  horseback,  over  down 
and  through  wood,  ranging  far  away  on  her  own  business,  but  ever 
and  anon  coming  back  to  see  how  I  was  getting  on.  She  lay  at 
my  feet  in  my  library,  and  slept  on  a  couch  at  the  bottom  of  my 
bed.  About  eighteen  months  before  her  death,  she  developed  signs 
of  failing  sight,  and  gradually  grew  totally  blind.  This  blindness 
was  the  cause  of  an  accident  on  which  I  do  not  care  to  dwell,  but 
which  necessitated  her  destruction ;  and  on  the  twenty-seventh  of 
July  she  passed  away  without  a  pang.  She  lies  buried  in  the  garden 
here,  at  the  foot  of  a  flag-staff,  and  on  her  prettily  turfed  grave  is 
the  following  inscription  : 

HERE  LIES 

NELLY 

A  COLLIE  DOG; 

FOR  NINE  YEARS  A  MUCH  LOVED  FRIEND, 
GENTLE,  AFFECTIONATE,  AND  TRUE. 

DIED  JULY  27™,  1887. 
E.   Y.,  L.  K.  Y.,  A.  M.  B.,  W.  W. 

"  This  is  the  history  of  Nelly,  whose  memory  is  so  dear  to  me 
that  I  will  never  have  another  pet." 

Vorbei!  vorbei — past  and  gone!  —  says  Andersen  in  telling 
the  fir-tree's  story.  It  is  also  vorbei!  with  these  pets  —  with 
Mouche  and  Dash  and  Kaiser,  with  Geist  and  Nelly  and  Flush. 


IV. 
THE     UPPER     TEN." 


IV. 


"THE    UPPER   TEN." 

BIOGRAPHY  is  so  genial  nowadays,  and  full  of  easy  gossip,  that 
we  cannot  help  wondering  a  little  at  her  former  stiffness. 
Nothing  is  below  her  notice  now,  but  the  personalia  of  earlier  times 
slip  into  her  pages  more  by  accident  than  design.  This,  no  doubt, 
is  the  reason  why  she  referred  so  seldom  or  so  briefly  to  the  pet 
animals  of  royalty.  There  was  a  divinity  in  monarchs  then,  and  she 
treated  them  with  such  ceremonious  respect  that  if  we  had  only 
her  account  to  look  to,  we  should  know  but  little  of  their  real 
selves. 

Fortunately  for  us,  letters  have  been  written  in  every  age,  and 
countless  private  journals.  From  these  sources  come  the  anec- 
dotes, the  jests,  the  bits  of  gossip  which  recall  the  past  more  vividly, 
and  make  these  old  rulers  seem  life-like  even  yet.  In  this  way 
many  a  simple,  natural  trait  has  been  preserved  to  relieve  the  court 
background  of  formality  and  grandeur  ;  many  a  little  incident  is 
told  that  proves  our  common  blood.  Kings  and  queens  loved  and 
hoped,  or  grieved  and  feared,  even  as  ourselves  who  wear  no 
crowns ;  and  while  the  soft  afterglow  of  years  falls  on  royalty  sur- 

75 


76 


THE     UPPER     TEN. " 


rounded  by  its  pets,  we  realize  anew  how  one  touch  of  nature  can 
make  the  whole  world  kin. 

About  the  beginning  of  the  seventeenth  century,  there  might 
have  been  seen  in  India  at  the  magnificent  court  of  Jehangir,  a 
favorite  of  unusual  intelligence  and  size,  whose  story  has  come 
down  to  us  in  memoirs  written  by  the  Emperor  himself.  It  reads 
like  a  page  from  the  Arabian  Nights. 

"  Among  my  brother's  elephants,"  he  says,  "  was  one  of  which 
I  could  not  but  express  the  highest  admiration,  and  to  which  I  gave 
the  name  of  Indraging  (the  elephant  of  India).  It  was  of  a  size  I 
never  beheld  before  — such  as  to  get  upon  his  back  required  a  lad- 
der of  fourteen  steps.  It  was  of  a  disposition  so  gentle  and  tract- 
able that  under  the  most  furious  incitements,  if  an  infant  then 
unwarily  threw  itself  in  its  way,  it  would  lay  hold  of  it  with  its 
trunk,  and  place  it  out  of  danger  with  the  utmost  tenderness  and 
care.  The  animal  was  at  the  same  time  of  such  unparalleled  speed 
and  activity  that  the  fleetest  horse  was  not  able  to  keep  up  with  it; 
and  such  was  its  courage  that  it  would  attack  with  perfect  readi- 
ness a  hundred  of  the  fiercest  of  its  kind. 

"  Such  in  other  respects,  although  it  may  appear  in  some  degree 
tedious  to  dwell  upon  the  subject,  were  the  qualities  of  this  noble 
and  intelligent  quadruped,  that  I  assigned  a  band  of  music  to  at- 
tend upon  it ;  and  it  was  always  preceded  by  a  company  of  forty 
spearsmen.  It  had  for  its  beverage  every  morning  a  Hinclostany 
maun  (twenty-eight  pounds)  of  liquor;  and  every  morning  and  even- 
ing there  were  boiled  for  its  meal  four  mauns  of  rice,  and  two 
mauns  of  beef  or  mutton,  with  one  maun  of  oil  or  clarified  butter. 
From  among  all  the  others  this  same  elephant  was  selected  for  my 
morning  rides,  and  for  this  purpose  there  was  always  upon  its  back 
a  howdah  of  solid  gold.  Four  mauns  of  gold  were  moreover 


"  THE     UPPER     TEN.  "  77 

wrought  into  rings,  chains,  and  other  ornaments  for  its  neck,  breast 
and  legs ;  and  lastly,  its  body  was  painted  all  over  every  day  with 
the  dust  of  sandal-wood." 

There  is  something  quite  captivating  in  the  idea  of  all  this  ori- 
ental pomp  enshrining  the  favorite  of  an  emperor  —  in  its  careful 
tendance,  its  perfumes,  jewels  and  musicians  —  the  latter,  in  par- 
ticular, being  an  attention  as  delicate  as  unusual. 

One  would  like  to  know  its  after-history — whether  it  survived 
so  magnificent  a  patron,  and  whether,  in  that  case,  its  splendor  re- 
mained undiminished  to  the  end.  But  the  story  of  the  Elephant  of 
India  stops  with  Jehangir. 

About  the  same  time  that  this  liberal-minded  monarch  ascended 
the  throne  of  the  East,  there  died  in  Genoa  another  imperial  favor- 
ite —  the  hound  Roldarno,  which  had  belonged  to  Charles  V.,  and 
was  by  him  given  to  Andrea  Doria.  Such  at  least  is  the  common 
version  ;  but  it  is  also  stated  that  Roldarno  belonged  to  a  later 
Doria,  and  did  not  die  until  nine  years  after  the  old  Admiral  was 
in  his  grave.  In  either  case,  he  was  a  notable  dog,  and  received 
the  final  honor  of  interment  at  the  foot  of  a  statue  of  Jupiter  —  to 
the  end  "  that  Roldarno  still  might  guard  a  king."  His  life-size  por- 
trait may  be  seen  in  the  Doria  palace. 

This  same  Emperor  had  an  almost  feminine  liking  for  birds 
and  flowers;  and  he  who  would  not  lift  a  finger  to  keep  his  heretic 
subjects  from  the  flames,  once  ordered  his  tent  to  be  left  standing 
in  the  camp,  otherwise  dismantled,  simply  because  a  swallow  had 
nested  in  its  folds. 

"  And  it  stood  there  all  alone, 

Loosely  flapping,  torn  and  tattered, 
Till  the  brood  was  fledged  and  flown, 
Singing  o'er  those  walls  of  stone 

That  the  cannon-shot  had  shattered." 


"  THE     UPPER     TEN. " 


In  the  last  years  of  his  life  at  Yuste,  he  made  great  pets  of  a 
cat  and  parrot.  After  his  death,  they  were  transferred  to  his  dau^h- 
ter,  the  Princess  Juana,  who  with  true  Spanish  courtesy,  dis- 
patched a  litter  for  them  in  charge  of  a  faithful  servant.  In  due 
time  they  reached  Valladolid,  well  and  happy,  having  traveled 

together  a  number  of 
days  without  one  single 
recorded  peck  or  scratch. 
Charles's  contempo- 
rary, William  of  Orange, 
liked  dogs  —  and  with  rea- 
son—  for  he  owed  his  life 
to  a  pet  spaniel.  It  roused 
him  from  sleep  just  in 
time  to  escape  by  one 
door  as  the  enemy  en- 
tered the  other. 

Either  this  dog,  or 
another  of  the  same  race, 
after  William  was  mur- 
dered, detected  the  assas- 
sin beneath  a  pile  of 
rubbish.  Having  done  this  act  of  justice,  he  refused  food,  and 
died  upon  the  corpse  of  his  master.  William's  monument  at  the 
Hague  represents  him  in  armor,  reclining  under  a  marble  canopy, 
with  the  faithful  dog  at  his  feet.  Bunsen  says  that  as  he  looked 
at  it  he  could  not  help  hoping  the  two  friends  were  buried 
together.  Why  not  ? 

A  monarch  who  not  only  liked  dogs,  but  much  preferred  them 
to  men,  was  Frederick  the  Great  of  Prussia.  His  grim  father, 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT   AND   HIS   SISTER   WILHEI.MINA. 
(From  the  painting  by  A  ntoine  Pestte.) 


THE     UPPER     TEN. " 


79 


who  curtailed  all  the  son's  amusements,  his  freedom,  friendships, 
and  food,  was  probably  unaware  of  his  fondness  for  animals,  or  he 
would  have  curtailed  them  also.  The  moment  Frederick  became 
his  own  master,  a  crowd  of  Italian  greyhounds  began  to  caper  at 
his  side  across  the  historic  stage.  He  was  never  without  a  half 
dozen  at  the  least  to  divert  his  leisure  moments.  When  they  were 
not  at  their  sport,  they  occupied  the  blue  satin  chairs  and  couches 
in  his  room.  Leather  balls  were  supplied  for  their  amusement, 
but  in  suite  of  this  precaution  they  kept  the  furniture  ragged. 

"  How  can  I  help  it  ?  "  said  the  king;  "  if  I  should  get  the  chairs 
mended  to-day,  they  would  be  as  badly  torn  to-morrow  ;  so  it  is 
best  to  bear  with  the  inconvenience." 

He  was  found  one  day  upon  the  floor  with  a  platter  of  fried 
meat,  from  which  he  was  feeding  his  dogs.  He  kept  order  among 
them  by  means  of  a  little  stick  —  now  driving  back  an  over-greedy 
applicant,  and  now  shoving  a  choice  morsel  towards  some  special 
favorite. 

He  was  apt  to  dislike  any  one  whom  they  disliked,  and  to  favor 
those  they  favored.  If  his  pets  were  ill,  he  sought  medical  advice, 
and  nothing  more  enraged  him  than  to  find — as  he  several  times 
did  —  that  the  physicians  considered  it  beneath  their  dignity  to 
prescribe  for  an  animal. 

The  best  beloved,  the  Joseph  among  his  dogs,  was  Biche.  The 
story  goes  that  when  reconnoitering  one  day  during  the  campaign 
of  1745,  he  was  pursued  by  the  enemy,  and  concealed  himself  under 
a  bridge,  with  Biche  in  his  arms.  Discovery  was  imminent — the 
least  whine  or  snuffle  would  have  betrayed  them;  but  the  nervous 
little  creature  crouched  motionless,  almost  breathless,  and  the  pair 
escaped. 

It  was  this  dog,  which  along  with  the  king's  baggage,  was  cap- 


8o  "THE     UPPER     TEN." 

tured  at  Sohar,  and  at  whose  return  he  wept  with  joy.  An  elabo- 
rate monument  at  Sans  Souci  commemorates  its  virtues.  All  his 
clogs  lie  buried  there,  at  either  end  of  the  terrace,  under  flat  stones 
inscribed  with  their  names.  Frederick  wished  to  be  buried  with 
them,  but  his  successor  was  unwilling,  and  interred  the  great  king 
with  his  ancestors.  In  his  last  illness  he  would  sit  for  hours 
together  on  the  sunshiny  terrace  —  averse  as  ever  to  the  society  of 
his  kind,  but  always  with  a  chair  at  his  side  for  a  dog,  and  a  feeble 
hand  ready  to  pat  its  head.  A  few  hours  before  he  died,  he  bade 
the  attendant  throw  an  extra  quilt  —  not  over  his  own  chill  form  - 
but  over  a  shivering  greyhound  at  his  feet !  What  a  tragic  contrast 
to  the  joyous  little  drummer  shown  in  the  painting  by  Pesne. 

No  less  fond  of  dogs  than  Frederick,  is  Prince  Bismarck  to-day. 
It  is  his  ardent  wish  that  they  too  may  live  on  in  another  world, 
so  that  death  need  not  separate  us  from  them.  One  noble  hound 
twice  saved  his  life,  and  —  trustiest  of  confidants  —  accompanied 
him  to  the  conference  between  the  Emperors  of  Germany  and 
Austria  —  behaving  there  with  a  diplomatic  courtesy  and  reserve 
that  would  have  done  credit  to  Metternich. 

Sultel,  or  Sultan,  a  remarkably  intelligent  animal,  was  poisoned 
in  1877,  at  his  master's  country-seat.  He  died,  after  some  hours  of 
intense  suffering,  throughout  which  Bismarck  watched  by  his  side. 
He  has  been  long  and  deeply  mourned.  The  princess  offered  a 
life  pension  to  any  one  who  would  point  out  the  assassin  —  but  in 
vain ;  the  wretch  is  still  undetected. 

It  is  said  that  Prince  Bismarck  feeds  his  dogs  himself,  and 
(whisper  it  low !)  that  he  actually  feeds  them  at  table  !  No  unpleas- 
ant "  Off  with  you  ! "  reminds  his  four-footed  friends  that  they  are 
not  as  men  and  brothers,  and  hence,  as  diners-out.  Admitted  to 
an  honorable  intimacy,  the  companions  of  their  master's  walks  and 


PRINCE    HISMARCK    AND    HIS    DOGS. 
(From  life  photograph,} 


"  THE     UPPER     TEN.  "  83 

meals,  the  habitues  of  his  study  —  they  live  with  him  on  terms  of 
mutual  respect,  and  show  by  their  stately  bearing  how  truly  they 
are  dogs  of  distinction. 

Statesmen  are  very  apt  to  make  friends  of  animals,  for  they 
realize  that  no  intimates  are  so  safe  as  those  who~  cannot  betray 
them  —  who  understand,  but  never  repeat.  Daniel  Webster  had  his 
favorite  horses,  and  Randolph  of  Roanoke  his  clogs,  who  traveled 
with  him  wherever  he  went,  and  were  served  at  table  with  clean 
plates,  choice  beefsteaks  and  new  milk  —  anything  less  excellent 
than  the  best  being,  in  their  master's  opinion,  unworthy  of  himself 
and  them.  Henry  Fawcett  had  Oddo,  who  was  promoted  from  the 
post  of  house-clog  to  be  his  companion,  and  Lord  Eldon  had  the 
inimitable  Pincher.  The  latter  reached  a  good  old  age,  contrary 
to  all  expectations,  since  in  the  matter  of  diet  he  lived  "  not  wisely 
but  too  well."  In  the  character  of  a  sitter  he  made  acquaintance 
with  Sir  Edwin  Landseer,  who  pronounced  him  "a  very  pictur- 
esque old  dog,  with  a  great  look  of  cleverness  in  his  face."  He 
figured  with  his  master  in  several  other  portraits  and  drawings,  was 
a  faithful,  amusing  little  friend,  and  as  such  was  remembered  by 
name  in  Lord  Eldon's  will.  When  he  died,  in  1840,  he  was  buried 
in  a  peaceful  garden,  where,  to  this  clay,  his  tombstone  may  be 
seen. 

Among  the  powers  that  were,  who  had  their  pets,  Peter  the 
Great  must  be  included  —  the  Czar  whose  evil-tempered  monkey 
was  a  terror  to  all  the  attendants  at  court,  obliged  as  they  were 
to  endure  without  resenting  its  malice.  A  much  more  agreeable 
favorite  was  Lisette,  an  Italian  greyhound  presented  to  Peter  by 
the  Sultan.  Once  she  saved  a  life,  and  her  Victoria  Cross  is  the 
record  in  history  of  this  achievement.  A  poor  fellow  had  been 
condemned,  for  some  small  error,  to  the  knout.  All  intercession 


84 


"  THE     UPPER     TEN. " 


had  failed,  and  the  hour  of  execution  was  at  hand,  when  his  friends 
bethought  them  of  fastening  a  petition  to  Lisette's  collar  and  send- 
ing her  with  it  to  the  Czar.  This  was  done,  and  what  he  had 
refused  to  his  loyal  subjects  he  granted  to  little  Lisette.  Not  with- 
out reason  is  the  skeleton  of  this  timely  advocate  still  preserved  in 
the  city  where  she  lived  ! 

The  Norman  kings  of  England  were  for  the  most  part  sturdy 
soldiers,  with  a  passion  for  the  chase  in  their  leisure  hours.  Very 
naturally,  therefore,  such  pets  as  they  possessed  came  under  the 
head  of  knightly  belongings,  and  were  either  horse  and  hound  or 
hawk.  In  truth,  they  were  too  stern  a  race  to  spend  much  time  in 
endearments  of  any  kind.  We  can  hardly  imagine  them  tending 
a  "  fringie-pawe,"  or  toying  with  "  spaniels  gentle."  The  aristo- 
cratic greyhound  was  their  favorite  instead,  and  they  spared  no 
pains  to  develop  its  peculiar  excellencies.  Old  Wynken  de  Worde 
tells  us  in  a  rather  bald  rhyme,  that  the  thorough-bred  greyhound 
should  be : 

Headed  lyke  a  snake, 
Neckyed  lyke  a  drake, 
Footyed  lyke  a  catte, 
Taylled  lyke  a  ratte, 
Syded  lyke  a  teme 
And  chyned  lyke  a  beme  ;  — 

while  another  rough-edged  rhyme  bears  witness  to  the  fact  that 
dogs  as  well  as  ancestors  came  over  with  the  Conqueror.  Thus  it 
runs: 

William  de  Conigsby 
Came  out  of  Brittany, 
With  his  wyfe  Tiffany, 
And  his  maide  Manias, 
And  his  dogge  Hardigras. 


"  THE     UPPER     TEN. "  85 

Richard  Cceur  de  Lion  was  called  an  excellent  judge  of  a 
hound,  a  characteristic  remembered  by  Scott  in  his  novel  of  "  The 
Talisman  ";  but  a  life  of  crusading  left  him  small  leisure  for  canine 
friendships.  His  brother  John  is  thought  to  have  given  the  famous 
Gellert  to  Llewellyn,  but  this  is  far  from  certain;  "Perhaps,  as 
modern  authorities  seem  to  think,  the  pathetic  story  of  this  hound 
is  only  a  myth,  but  in  any  case  it  is  too  well-known  for  repetition, 
and  we  pass  on  to  the  hound  of  Richard  II. 

"  It  was  informed  me,"  says  Froissart,  "  that  Kynge  Richard  had  a  grayhounde,  who  always 
wayted  upon  the  kynge,  and  wolde  knowe  no  man  els.  For  whensoever  the  kynge  did  ryde,  he 
that  kept  the  grayhounde  dyd  lette  hym  lose,  and  he  wolde  streyght  runne  to  the  kynge,  and  faun 
uppon  hym,  and  lepe  with  his  fore-fete  uppon  the  kynge's  shoulders.  And  as  the  kynge  and  the 
Erie  of  Derby  talked  togyder  in  the  courte,  the  grayhounde,  who  was  wonte  to  leape  uppon  the 
kynge,  left  the  kynge,  and  came  to  the  Erie  of  Derby,  Duke  of  Lancastre,  and  made  hym  the  same 
friendly  countenance  and  chere  he  was  wonte  to  do  to  the  kynge.  The  Duke,  who  knew  not  the 
grayhounde  demanded  of  the  kynge  what  the  grayhounde  wolde  do  ;  '  Cosin,'  quod  the  kynge,  '  it 
is  a  greate  goode  token  to  you  and  an  evyl  sygne  to  me.'  '  Sir,  how  know  ye  that  ? '  quod  the  Duke. 
'  I  know  it  well,'  quod  the  kynge ;  '  the  grayhounde  maketh  you  chere  this  day  as  king  of  Englaunde, 
as  ye  shal  be,  and  I  shal  be  deposed.  The  grayhounde  hath  this  knowledge  naturally,  therefore 
take  hym  to  you:  he  will  followe  you  and  forsake  me.'  The  Duke  understood  well  these  words, 
and  cheryshed  the  grayhounde,  who  wolde  never  after  followe  Kynge  Richard,  but  followed  the 
Duke  of  Lancastre." 

Such  is  the  tragic  legend  whose  embroidery  does  not  hide  the 
underlying  fact.  It  is  easy  to  see  that,  with  crown,  and  queen,  and 
life  itself  in  the  balance,  the  king  had  yet  another  pang  to  endure, 
when  his  own  dear  hound  turned  from  him,  and  fawned  upon  his 
rival. 

Of  the  hapless  princes  who  were  murdered  in  the  tower,  little 
is  known.  There  is  a  picture  of  them,  however,  painted  long  years 
afterward  by  Paul  Delaroche,  which  everybody  knows.  Seated  on 
the  antique  bed,  they  have  been  looking  together  at  a  book,  when, 
all  at  once,  speech  and  motion  are  arrested  by  the  sound  of  a  stealthy 


86 


"  THE     LTPER     TEN. " 


step,  or  it  may  be  a  whisper  in.  the  passage  outside  their  room. 
With  tense  gaze  and  bated  breath  they  listen ;  meanwhile,  their 
little  spaniel  peers  around  the  corner  of  the  bed,  in  an  attitude  of 
keen  attention.  Like  his  masters,  he  is  aware  of  danger,  if  indeed 

he  was  not  the  first  to 
detect  it.  And  thus  united 
by  a  common  fear,  the  three 
remain  —  a  tragic,  listening 
group  —  immortal  forever 
on  the  painter's  canvas. 

Several  English  kings 
kept  a  menagerie,  Henry 
I.  having  formed  one  at 
Woodstock,  and  Henry  III. 
at  the  Tower,  while  their 
successors  kept  up  and  am- 
plified the  collections  al- 
ready formed.  In  this  con- 
nection an  unpleasant  story 
is  told  of  Henry  VII.,  a 
story  that  proves  him  no 
lover  of  the  canine  race.  It 
seems  that  a  lion  from  the 
royal  menagerie  was  baited 
one  day  for  the  king's 
amusement,  its  opponents 

being  four  noble  English  mastiffs.  The  struggle  was  long  and 
severe,  but  in  the  end  the  mastiffs  conquered.  Then  Henry,  who 
feigned  to  believe  that  the  lion  was  lawful  king  over  other  beasts, 
caused  the  four  luckless  victors  to  be  hung,  as  traitors  to  their 


QUKEN    EI.IZAHKTH    IN    HKK    1'KACOCK   (;o\VN. 
(.From  the  painting  by  Zuickerv,  at  Hampton  Court.') 


"  THE     UPPER     TEN. " 


lord.     In  this  way  he  pointed  a  moral  for  the  use  of  his  turbulent 
nobles. 

A  pleasanter  story  concerns  his  parrot.  It  fell  from  a  window 
in  Westminster  Palace  into  the  Thames.  "  A  boat !  twenty 
pounds  for  a  boat !  "  screamed  Polly  at  this  dreadtut  crisis ;  and 
twenty  pounds  the  king  actually  paid  to  the  waterman  who  restored 
his  pet.  This  was  doing  pretty  well  for  a  parsimonious  king. 

Baitings,  whether  of  bull,  bear,  or  lion,  were  greatly  in  vogue 
during  his  reign.  Henry  VIII.  also  enjoyed  them,  but  preferred 
the  chase,  and  his  account- 
books  are  full  of  items  refer- 
ring to  hawk  and  hound. 
Spaniels,  mastiffs,  greyhounds; 
their  muzzles,  collars  and 
chains;  their  keeper's  salary; 
the  cost  of  their  transporta- 
tion in  accompanying  the 
king  from  place  to  place - 
all  these  items  help  to  swell 
the  bill  of  His  Majesty's  per- 
sonal expenses.  Occasionally, 
too,  they  get  into  mischief, 
killing  some  poor  fellow's 
sheep  or  cow,  a  loss  invari- 
ably paid  for,  and  as  duly 
chronicled  in  the  account-book. 
Dogs  are  often  given  to  the 
king,  who  of  course  does  not  fail  to  reward  the  donor.  One  man 
presents  him  with  a  mastiff  that  has  been  taught  to  fetch  and 
carry,  and  gets  twenty  shillings  for  his  gift.  Another  time  four 


MARY,   QUEEN   OF  SCOTS,    AT  THE   AGE  OF  TEN. 
(From  tlie  painting  in  Lord  Napier's  collection.) 


88 


THE     UPPER     TEN. " 


shillings,  eight  pence  are  paid  "  to  one  that  made  the  dogges  draw 
water."  A  poor  woman  gets  "  four  shillings,  eight  pence  in 
rewarde  for  bringinge  of  Cutte,  the  kynge's  dog."  He  had  been 
lost  at  least  once  before,  as  is  proved  by  an  entry  of  ten  shillings 
"for  bringing  back  Cutte,  the  kynges  spanyell."  Other  five  shil- 
lings went  for  restoring  "  Ball, 
that  was  lost  in  the  forreste  of 
Walltham." 

From  this  and  similar  evi- 
dence we  may  infer  that  the 
dogs  of  yesterday  comported 
themselves  very  much  like  the 
dogs  of  to-day  ;  that  they  learned 
tricks,  and  were  skilled  in  field- 
sports  ;  that  occasionally  they 
poached ;  that  they  were  lost, 
and  again  found  —  after  the 
time-honored  fashion  of  dogs. 

About  this  time,  there  seems 
to  have  been  a  srrowino;  attach- 

O  O 

ment  on  the   part   of  the   court 
ladies  to  "  lytel  dogges  "  as  pets. 


LADY  MARGARET  LENOX,  MOTHER  OF  LORD 
DARNLEY. 

(In  the  Ha-mptoti  Court  Collection.  —  From  a  rare  print.} 


When  Catherine  of  Aragon  was 
queen,  each  maid  of  honor  to 
Her  Majesty  was  allowed  one 
maid,  and  a  spaniel.  Anne  Boleyn  followed  the  example  of 
her  predecessor  —  at  least  where  dogs  were  concerned.  The 
tell-tale  account-books  name  several  of  her  favorites,  but  re- 
fer most  often  to  a  greyhound,  Urian,  which,  owing  to  an 
unruly  disposition,  was  often  in  trouble.  Once  it  killed  a 


"  THE     UPPER     TEN. " 


89 


cow,  but   Henry  recompensed    the    cow's  owner  by  a  present  of 
ten  shillings. 

This  was  in  Anne's  day  of  prosperity,  when  she  and  hers 
could  do  no  wrong  in  the  king's  sight.  A  few  years  later,  when 
the  son  she  had  hoped  for  was  born  dead,  and  Henry's  dislike  was 
apparent  to  all ;  when  ill,  sad  and  apprehensive,  we  see  her  once 
more  with  her  dogs.  The  king  is  away,  taking  his  pleasure, 
and  she  mopes  alone  at  Greenwich  Palace.  Here,  in  what  was 
called  the  Quadrangle  Court,  we  are  told  that  she  "  would  sit 
for  hours  in  silence  and  abstraction,  or  seeking  a  joyless  pas- 
time playing  with  her  little  dogs,  and  setting  them  to  fight  each 
other." 

A  few  weeks  more,  and  the  curtain  fell  on  poor  Anne  with  her 
short-lived  royalty;  erelong,  too,  on  Henry  himself,  his  sickly  son, 
and  unhappy  daughter  Mary ;  and  now,  amidst  general  rejoic- 
ing, Elizabeth  mounted  the  throne.  This  remarkable  queen, 
in  whose  character  blended  some  very  masculine  traits  with 
others  equally  feminine,  revealed  her  twofold  nature  in  amuse- 
ments as  well  as  in  more  serious  affairs.  She  was  fond  of 
singing-birds,  of  apes,  and  little  dogs;  but  much  fonder  of  the 
chase  and  bear  or  lion  baitings.  Her  greatest  pet  was  the 
famous  wardrobe  which  at  her  death  numbered  three  thousand 
dresses,  and  of  which  a  queer  specimen  is  shown  in  a  painting 
by  Zucchero  at  Hampton  Court.  He  has  depicted  her  in  a  loose 
short  robe,  figured  with  birds  and  flowers,  and  wearing  an  Orien- 
tal cap.  Her  expression  is  decidedly  ill-tempered,  and  rather 
vain.  One  cannot  help  congratulating  her  many  suitors  on  their 
lack  of  success. 

As  in  dress,  so  in  other  things  —  Elizabeth  liked  to  be  thought 

o  o 

original ;  and  her  fancy  for  the  tiny  hunting-clogs  called  beagles, 


"  THE     UPPER     TEN. " 


made  them  the  fashion  during  her  reign.     It  is  to  this  whim  that 
Dryden's  lines  refer  : 

"  The  graceful  goddess  was  array'd  in  green  — 
About  her  feet  were  little  beagles  seen 
That  watched  with  upward  eye  the 
Motions  of  their  queen." 

But  it  is  not  until  the  time  of  the  Stuarts  that  we  find  some- 
thing like  the  modern  feeling  for  pets  —  a  feeling  based  on  genuine 

kindly  regard  for  the 
animal  race.  Some  of 
them  carried  it  to  ex- 
cess, no  doubt,  but  still 
it  is  a  trait  that  adds 
to  our  liking:  for  these 

o 

luckless  kings  —  a  pleas- 
ant feature  in  the  story 
of  lives  that  were  con- 
tinually passing  from 
mirth  to  tears,  from 
poetry  to  prose,  and 

frQm        &       ^Q^       ^        fa 

cushionless  seat  of  a 
Pretender.  There  is  no  sadder  lesson  in  history  than  this  of  the 
Stuart  kings,  who  began  with  so  much,  and  ended  with  nothing. 
They  had  beauty,  talent,  high  estate,  devoted  friends,  and  good  in- 
tentions ;  yet  somehow,  what  they  touched  did  not  prosper,  their 
good  gifts  did  not  avail  them. 

Beneficent   fairies  were    present   at   their  birth,   and  brought 
priceless  gifts  ;   but  all  was   counteracted  by  one    fatal  oversight, 


CHILDREN   OF  CHARLES   L,   WITH    SPANIELS. 

\brom  a  painting  by  l-andyke.) 


THE     UPPER     TEN.  " 


93 


since   the   malevolent    fairy,  uninvited,  came  only  to  punish    the 


slight. 


"  What  boots  it  thy  virtue  ? 

What  profit  thy  parts  ? 
If  one  thing  thou  lackest  — 

The  art  of  all  arts  ?  " 

Something  —  whatever  it  might  be — they  assuredly  lacked,  and 
atoned  for  the  lack  by  their  misfortunes.  Meanwhile  they  enjoyed 
life,  and  in  many  ways  made  it  pleasant,  exhibiting  wit,  ready 
courtesy,  and  a  good  will  that,  as  before  said,  extended  to  both 
animals  and  men. 

James  I.,  like  his  Tudor  predecessors,  was  extremely  fond  of 
the  chase.  Contemporary  writers  give  queer  accounts  of  his  awk- 
ward, headlong  riding,  and  disgusting  eagerness  for  the  trophy. 
"  The  King  of  England,"  says  one,  "  is  merciful  except  in  hunting, 
where  he  appears  cruel.  When  he  finds  himself  unable  to  take 
the  beast,  he  frets  and  storms,  and  cries  '  God  is  angry  with  me, 
but  I  will  have  him  for  all  that!'" 

Dogs  were  a  prominent  feature  in  the  royal  establishment,  and 
one  hound  named  Jewel,  Jowel,  or  Jowler,  is  often  mentioned. 
Almost  his  first  appearance  in  history  is  in  the  character  of  a 
petitioner.  Royal  visits  in  these  earlier  days  were  luxuries  expen- 
sive to  the  host,  however  welcome.  Letters  yet  exist  that  prove 
how  much  they  were  dreaded.  Elizabeth  bestowed  many  such 
marks  of  honor  on  her  subjects,  and  no  matter  how  great  the  in- 
convenience, her  involuntary  entertainers  dared  not  hint  it.  That 
a  hint  on  the  matter  was  once  given  to  James,  may  be  taken  as  a 
proof  of  his  good  nature. 

He  had  gone  with  his  retinue  to  Royston,  where,  erelong,  the 


94 


THE     UPPER     TEN. " 


presence  of  so  many  guests  made  a  deep  hole  in  their  host's  larder 
and  purse.  Therefore  —  but  this  part  of  the  story  is  best  told  in 
a  letter  written  at  the  time  by  Edmund  Lascelles,  a  groom  of  the 
Privy  Chamber. 

He  says  :  "  One  day,  one  of  the  king's  special  hounds,  called 
Jowler,  was  missing.  The  king  was  much  displeased  at  his 
absence  ;  he  went  hunting  notwithstanding.  The  next  day,  when 
they  went  to  the  fieldt  Jowler  came  in  among  the  rest  of  the 
hounds  ;  the  king  was  told,  and  was  glad  of  his  return,  but,  looking 
on  him,  spied  a  paper  about  his  neck.  On  this  paper  was  written. 
'  Good  Mr.  Jowler,  we  pray  you  speak  to  the  king  (for  he  hears  you 
every  day,  and  so  he  doth  not  us),  that  it  will  please  His  Majesty  to 
go  back  to  London,  for  else  the  country  will  be  undone;  all  our 
provision  is  spent,  and  we  are  unable  to  entertain  him  longer."' 

This  plain  hint  was  not  taken  amiss  —  in  fact,  it  was  not  taken 
at  all  ;  and  His  Majesty  staid  on  at  Royston  until  it  quite  suited 
him  to  leave,  which  was  not  until  some  days  later. 

Poor  Jewel's  end  was  untimely.  The  court  was  at  Theobalds, 
and  Queen  Anne,  who  liked  hunting  as  well  as  James,  went  out  to 
shoot  deer.  "  She  mistook  her  mark,"  writes  Sir  Dudley  Carleton, 
"  and  killed  Jewel,  the  king's  most  principall  and  special  hound,  at 
which  he  stormed  exceedingly  a  while ;  but  after  he  learned  who 
did  it,  was  soon  pacified;  and,  with  much  kindness,  wished  her  not 
to  be  troubled  with  it,  for  he  should  love  her  never  the  worse  ;  and 
the  next  day  he  sent  her  a  diamond  worth  two  thousand  pounds, 
as  a  legacy  from  his  dead  dog." 

How  vividly  the  scene  rises  before  us  —  the  richly  dressed 
huntress  and  courtiers,  the  too  confident  aim,  the  brief  suspense 
then  the  horror-struck  certainty  that  no  deer,  but  a  hound  is  the 
victim  —  even  Jewel,  '; most  special!  "  to  the  king!  And  then,  it 


THE     UPPER     TEN. " 


95 


may  be,  an  embassy  was  sent  to  break  the  news;  and  we  can  im- 
agine how  cautiously  it  was  done.  But  still,  there  follows  a  bad 
half-hour,  for  the  king  raves  and  storms,  until  at  last  the  em- 
bassador  ventures  t  o 
say,  "  The  queen  is  full 
of  grief  at  her  mis- 
chance." 

"  The  queen,  ye 
rogues  !  "  he  shouts, 
"  was  it  her  mischance  ? 
Why  not  have  said  so 
before  ?  " 

The  storm  is  over, 
and  kind-hearted  James 
hurries  off  to  comfort 
his  wife. 

He  does  not  appear 
in  so  amiable  a  light  on 
all  occasions,  and  often 
tried  the  patience  of  his 
friends  by  asking  for 
such  of  their  dogs  or  hawks  as  happened  to  particularly  please  him. 
A  royal  request  was  in  the  nature  of  a  command,  and  our  former 
kings  were  not  very  nice  in  the  matter.  It  was  assumed  as  a  mat- 
ter of  course  that  people  would  be  only  too  happy  to  gratify  their 
wishes ;  so  they  asked  for  what  they  wanted,  and  rarely  failed  to  get  it. 

Besides  this  indirect  levy,  King  James  was  at  considerable  pains 
to  import  valuable  hawks  and  hunting-dogs.  There  is  extant  a 
letter  of  his  to  the  Earl  of  Mar,  asking  him  to  send  for  three  or 
four  couples  of  Earth-Dogs,  as  terriers  were  then  called. 


JAMES  STUART,  lll'KK  OP  RICHMOND,  SON  OF  KSME  STUART. 
(from  a  painting  by  Vandyke.'] 


96  "  THE     UPPER     TEN. " 

"  Have  a  special  care,"  he  urged,  "that  the  oldest  of  them  be  not 
passing  three  years  of  age; "  and  again,  "  Send  them  not  all  in  one 
ship,  but  some  in  one  ship,  some  in  another,  lest  the  ship  should 
miscarry." 

It  was  customary  in  these  days,  when  the  king  visited  a  school 
or  university,  for  some  of  the  students  to  hold  a  disputation  in  his 
presence,  that  he  might  see  their  facility  in  logic,  and  that  they 
might  do  credit  to  their  college.  Well,  King  James  once  visited 
Cambridge,  and  the  Philosophy  Act,  as  it  was  called,  was  kept  be- 
fore him.  The  subject  to  be  disputed  was,  "  whether  dogs  were 
capable  of  syllogisms."  Gravely  was  it  argued,  gravely  did  King 
James  listen  (perhaps  with  a  memory  of  Jowler)  and  great  was 
the  applause  when  young  Matthew  Wren  maintained  that  just  as 
the  king  was  mightier  and  wiser  than  other  men,  so  also,  by  virtue 
of  their  prerogative,  were  the  king's  dogs  more  gifted,  and  more 
capable  than  other  dogs,  even  in  the  matter  of  syllogisms.  The 
royal  listener  was  wonderfully  pleased  with  this  bit  of  logic;  and 
we  may  add  that  the  logician  rose  high  in  his  favor,  becoming 
eventually  Bishop  Wren. 

The  children  of  James  and  Anne  inherited  their  love  of  animals, 
if  indeed  they  did  not  derive  it  from  a  source  more  remote.  We 
know  that  their  unfortunate  grandmother,  Mary  Stuart,  had  pets : 
and  no  more  piteous  tale  has  ever  been  told  than  that  of  the  little 
creature  who  staid  with  her  on  the  scaffold.  It  was  a  long-haired 
Skye  terrier,  Bebe  by  name.  When  she  knelt  at  the  block,  he  lay 
concealed  in  the  folds  of  her  dress ;  but  after  the  fatal  stroke,  while 
the  executioners  were  despoiling  the  body,  he  crept  out,  and  placed 
himself  between  the  severed  trunk  and  head.  There  he  was  found 
by  Jane  Kennedy,  and  there  he  clung,  wet  with  his  mistress's 
blood,  until  removed  by  force.  Who  can  measure  the  agony  of 


"  THE     UPPER     TEN.  "  97 

that  faithful  little  heart,  when,  all  in  a  moment,  its  world  of  affec- 
tion had  shrunk  to  a  lump  of  irresponsive  clay  !  One  would  fain 
know  of  Bebe  —  whether,  as  some  say,  he  died  of  grief,  or,  as  others 
maintain,  lived  several  years,  well  cared  for  by  a  noble  lady.  And 
where,  when  death  came,  was  he  buried  ?  Fidelity  like  his  de- 
serves a  memorial,  and  doubtless  had  it  at  the  time,  although 
history  is  silent  on  the  point.  And  after  all,  it  does  not  matter, 
for  we  do  not  forget  him. 

One  of  the  most  charming  figures  in  this  connection,  is  the 
Princess  Elizabeth,  daughter  of  James  I.  As  is  usually  the  case 
with  royal  children,  she  was  educated  apart  from  her  parents. 
They  sent  her  with  six  little  companions  to  Combe  Abbey,  to  be 
under  the  charge  of  Lord  and  Lady  Harrington.  Through  the 
park  of  this  pleasant  country-seat,  flowed  a  river,  and  in  the  river 
was  a  tiny  island  which  they  gave  to  the  princess  for  her  very  own. 
A  house  was  built  upon  it  for  the  manager  of  the  small  farm,  and 
the  farm  itself  was  stocked  with  cattle,  equally  diminutive.  An 
aviary  was  also  given  her,  netted  over  with  gilt  wire,  and  filled  with 
birds  of  gay  plumage  or  musical  throats.  Furthermore,  there  was 
a  garden,  in  which  grew  flowers  for  pleasure,  and  herbs  "for  ye 
animalls'  helth."  It  was  as  nearly  a  child's  paradise  as  anything 
can  be ;  and  I  fancy  that  many  a  time  the  discrowned  Queen  of 
Bohemia  looked  back  with  longing  to  the  "  Fairy  Farm  "  of  her 
youth. 

Lord  Harrington's  account-books  are  often  and  amusingly  en- 
livened by  such  items  as:  so  much  "to  shearing  her  Hieness' 
great  rough  dog;  "  to  making  cages  for  her  birds,  or,  to  supplying 
cotton  for  her  monkey's  bed,  etc.  A  further  evidence  of  her  tastes 
is  the  childish  portrait  preserved  at  Combe  Abbey,  which  repre- 
sents her  surrounded  by  her  pets.  And  many  another  proof  is 


"  THE     UPPER     TEN.  ' 


given,  her  whole  life  through,  in  the  presents  of  animals  her  friends 
sent  her,  in  her  own  pleasant  mention  of  her  pets,  and  in  her  cor- 
respondence. Here,  for  instance,  is  an  amusing  note,  dated  1618: 

"  To  Sir  Dudley  Carleton,  from  the  fair  hands  of  Mrs.  Elizabeth  Ashley,  chief  gouvernante 
to  all  the  monkeys  and  dogs.     .     .     .     The  monkeys  you  sent  came  hither  very  well,  and  are  now 

grown  so  proud  that  they  will  come 
to  nobody  but  her  Highness,  who 
hath  them  in  her  bed  every  morn- 
ing, and  the  little  prince.  He  is  so 
fond  of  them  that  he  says  he  de- 
sires nothing  but  such  monkeys  of 
his  own." 

All  of  Elizabeth's 
children  inherited  h  e  r 
fondness  for  pets,  but 
most  of  all,  Prince  Ru- 
pert, whose  devotion  to 
Boy  became  a  by-word 
among  the  Roundheads. 
As  a  child  Charles  I. 
liked  animals,  but  little 
is  said  of  his  favorites, 
after  he  became  king. 
The  times  were  too  seri- 
ous, a  revolution  was  seething,  and  writers  were  busy  with  larger 
themes.  Still,  a  few  anecdotes  have  reached  us.  "  Methinks,"  says 
Sir  Philip  Warwick,  "  because  it  shows  his  dislike  of  a  common  court 
vice,  it  is  not  unworthy  the  relating  of  him,  that  one  evening  his 
dog  scratching  at  the  door,  he  commanded  me  to  let  in  Gipsy  ; 
whereupon  I  took  the  boldness  to  say,  '  Sir,  I  perceive  you  love 
a  grayhounde  better  than  you  do  a  spanell.'  '  Yes,'  says  he, 


PRINCESS     KLIZAHETH,    ELDEST     DAUGHTER    OF    JAMES     I 

AND   HER    PETS. 
(Sketch  from  painting. ) 


THE     UPPER     TEN. " 


99 


'  for  they  equally  love  their  masters,  and  yet  do  not  flatter  them 
so  much.' " 

Not  long  before  his  execution,  Charles  bade  farewell  to  his  dogs 
and  had  them  sent  to  the  queen,  lest  their  presence  might  distract 
him  from  more  solemn  thoughts.  Of  this  queen— Henrietta  Maria, 
a  charming  story  is  told,  which,  though  it  says  little  for  her 
prudence,  bears  ample  witness  to  her  affectionate  heart.  On  her 
return  from  Holland,  she  landed  at  Burlington,  and  staid  there 
over  night.  Before  daybreak  the  Parliamentary  forces  were  at 
hand,  and  she  with  her  ladies  fled  in  haste.  They  had  not  gone 
very  far  when  she  noticed  that  Mitte,  her  lap-dog,  had  been  left 
behind.  Madame  de  Motteville  calls  it  "an  ugly  old  dog,"  but 
adds  that  the  queen  was  extremely  fond  of  it.  So  it  would  seem, 
for  heedless  of  remonstrance,  back  she  rushed,  caught  up  Mitte, 
who  was  still  dozing  on  her  bed,  and  once  more  sped  away  —  in 
safety. 

It  may  be  added  that  there  was  formerly,  in  Holyrood  Palace, 
a  painting  of  Charles  and  Henrietta,  surrounded  by  their  dogs. 
Prominent  among  these  is  a  white  Shock,  which  some  think  to  be 
the  identical  Mitte  of  Burlington  fame. 

Of  the  little  dogs  petted  in  former  reigns,  numerous  specimens 
may  be  seen  in  pictures  and  engravings.  A  rare  print  of  Lady 
Margaret  Lenox,  the  mother  of  Darnley,  shows  one  of  them  play- 
ing at  her  feet,  with  a  dapper  air  that  contrasts  amusingly  with  her 
dignified  appearance. 

It  was  reserved  for  Charles  II.  to  bring  the  "  Comforter"  cult 
to  its  highest  development,  and  win  thereby  much  sarcastic  notice 
from  the  writers  of  the  time.  Old  Dr.  Cams,  who  lived  in  Eliza- 
beth's reign,  was  particularly  severe  on  this  folly,  but  he  could  not 
have  dreamed  to  what  lengths  it  would  reach  a  few  years  later. 


I00  "  THE     UPPER     TEN.' 

We  might,  with  a  little  change  of  spelling,  apply  his  words  directly 
to  the  pug  and  terrier  craze  of  fashionable  ladies  to-day.  Speak- 
ing of  the  "  spaniells  gentle,  or  comforters,"  he  says  : 

"  These  dogges  are  little,  pretty,  proper,  and  fyne,  and  sought 
for  to  satisfie  the  delicateness  of  daintie  dames,  instrumentes  of 
folly  for  them  to  play  and  dally  withal,  to  tryfle  away  the  treasure  of 
time,  to  withdraw  their  mindes  from  more  commendable  exercises." 

Sarcasm  and  good  advice  alike  were  wasted.  Where  a  king 
set  the  fashion,  fine  gentlemen  and  ladies  delighted  to  follow,  and 
lap-dogs  became  as  necessary  to  their  equipment  as  lace  ruffles  or 
brocades.  Charles  II.  and  his  brother,  James  II.,  always  liked 
dogs;  and  some  fine  canvases  by  Vandyke  remain,  in  which  the 
royal  children  are  grouped  with  their  four-footed  friends.  In  one 
painting,  Prince  Charles  is  the  central  figure ;  one  hand  hangs  idly 
at  his  side ;  the  other  rests  on  the  head  of  a  huge  mastiff,  near 
which  frisks  a  tiny  spaniel.  The  same  spaniel  probably,  and 
another  that  might  be  its  twin,  act  as  "  supporters  "  in  a  second 
painting  to  the  three  oldest  children. 

When,  after  many  vicissitudes,  Charles  finally  reached  the 
throne,  his  devotion  to  pets  was  more  marked  than  ever,  and  he 
gave  them  a  good  deal  of  attention  that  by  rights  belonged  else- 
where. Under  date  of  September  4,  1667,  Repys  notes  in  his 
Diary  that  he  "went  by  coach  to  Whitehall,  to  the  Council  Cham- 
ber. All  I  observed  there  is  the  silliness  of  the  king's  playing 
with  his  dog  all  the  while,  and  not  minding  the  business." 

As  a  matter  of  course,  contemporary  wits  and  playwrights  are 
not  silent,  and  have  many  a  squib  too  at  this  foible  of  Charles : 

"  His  dogs  would  sit  at  Council  Board, 

Like  judges  in  their  furs  ; 
We  question  much  which  had  most  sense,  • — 

The  Master,  or  the  Curs." 


PRINCESS    MARY,    DAUGHTER    OF    CHARLES    I. 
(From  etching  by  Modgin  of  painting  by  Sir  Peter  Lely,  in  t/te  Hampton  Court  Collection.} 


THE     UPPER     TEN." 


John  Evelyn,  another  diarist,  speaks  with  some  disgust  of  the 
lengths  to  which  Charles'  affection  for  his  pets  led  him.  The 
king  would  have  them  always  about  him,  and  allowed  them  to  con- 
sider his  bedroom  and  study  their  kennels. 

That  dogs  were  lost  and  stolen  with  modern  frequency,  that 
rewards  were  offered  for  their  return,  is  shown  by  notices  like 
the  following: 

"  Lost  out  of  the  Mews,  on  the  6th  of  the  present  month 
(March,  i667)a  little  brindled  greyhound  belonging  to  His  Majesty; 
if  any  one  has  taken  her  up,  they  are  desired  to  bring  her  to  the 
Porter's  Gate  at  Whitehall,  and  they  shall  have  a  very  good  content 
for  their  pains." 

The  king  might  often  be  seen  when  the  weather  was  fine, 
sauntering  along  in  St.  James  Park,  his  dogs  beside  him  ;  and 
stopping  every  now  and  then  to  feed  the  ducks  in  the  water.  It 
is  a  pleasant  picture  —  one  we  like  to  remember,  and  more  credit- 
able to  Charles  than  most  other  scenes  in  his  life.  Such  as  we 
see  him  here,  good-natured,  kind-hearted,  self-indulgent,  just  so  he 
passed  from  the  scene  of  the  world.  He  had  enjoyed  the  last 
gleam  of  prosperity  that  was  to  fall  on  the  Stuart  race.  Their 
good  fortune  died  with  him,  and  with  him,  too,  passed  the  golden 
age  of  the  "  Comforter." 

With  William  of  Orange  came  in  pugs;  and  for  a  long  time 
their  odd  ugly  faces  might  be  seen  in  all  establishments  of  rank. 
Garnished  with  orange  ribbons,  in  compliment  to  the  king,  they 
were  known  as  Dutch  pugs,  and  commanded  high  prices  in  the 
market. 

The  Georges  divided  their  royal  favor  impartially  between 
spaniels,  terriers  and  pugs.  The  Princess  Charlotte,  a  sister  of 
George  III.,  was  particularly  fond  of  terriers,  and  had  herself 


104 


THE     UPPER     TEN.  " 


painted  with  a  long-haired  darling  of  the  species  in  her  arms.  The 
Duchess  of  York  (wife  to  a  son  of  George  III.)  was  such  a  lover 
of  dogs  as  to  have  forty  at  one  time,  of  different  varieties.  All 

her  favorites  were  buried 
at  Oatlands,  where  even 
yet  some  sixty  or  more 
tombstones  may  be  seen. 
The  Duchess  herself 
wrote  most  of  their  epi- 
taphs, of  which  the  fol- 
lowing may  serve  as  a 
specimen : 

"  Pepper,  near  this  silent  grotto, 
Thy  fair  virtues  lie  confest; 

Fidelity  thy  constant  motto,  — 
Warmth  of   friendship  speaks  the 
test." 

Little  Princess  Amelia, 
the  darling  of  all  who 
knew  her,  petted  every 
thing  that  came  in  her 
reach  --  her  family,  her 
servants,  her  horses,  kit- 
tens, dogs  and  birds.  One 
painting  represents  her 

as  a  chubby,  winsome  baby,  playing  with  a  King  Charles  ;  another 
shows  her  as  a  merry  little  girl  with  her  pet  bird.  When  she  had 
grown  up  into  a  young  lady,  her  sister  Augusta  gave  her  a  bird 
which  she  greatly  prized.  Two  days  after  her  death  it  was  brought 


CHARLES    II.    AND    PET   SPANIEL,   AT  T'AWNFY  COU'RT. 

BUCKS,    SEAT   OF  THE   DUCHF.SS   OF  CLEVELAND. 

(From  old  and  rare  print.'} 


THE     UPPER     TEN. " 


by  an  attendant  to  the  donor.  The  Princess  Amelia  had  so  or- 
dered it,  she  said,  requesting  only  that  it  should  not  be  returned 
the  day  of  her  death,  nor  yet  the  day  after,  lest  its  presence  might 
affect  her  sister  too  deeply  in  those  first  hours  of—sorrow. 

Both  Victoria  and  Prince  Albert  had  many  favorites,  which  in 
being  painted  by  Landseer  have  established  a  claim  to  immortality. 
The  artist  Leslie  tells  a  pretty  story  of  the  young  queen  on  her 
coronation  day.  The  ceremony  took  an  unconscionable  time,  and 
when  she  returned  from  it, 
she  heard  her  pet  spaniel 
barking  wildly  in  the  room 
where  he  was  shut  up. 
"  Oh  !  there  is  Dash,  "  she 
cried,  and  hastened  to  lay 
off  her  splendid  robes  so 
that  she  might  give  him 
his  long-deferred  bath. 
There  is  a  burial-place  on 
the  terrace  at  Windsor,  as 
at  Sans-Souci,  and  in  one 
sunny  corner  rest  the  bones 
of  this  early  favorite. 

Eos  and  C  a  i  r  n  a  c  h  , 
Prince  Albert's  dogs,  were 
painted  together  by  Land- 
seer,  and  form  a  most  clisni- 

o 

fied,  graceful  group.  Islay, 
one  of  the  Queen's  terriers,  was  painted  with  a  mackaw  and  several 
love-birds,  which  reveals  another  trait  of  his  royal  mistress.  She 
is  very  fond  of  birds,  and  in  the  fowl-house,  in  the  Home  Park, 


PRINCESS    AMELIA    AND    HER    DOG. 
(From  faint  ing  by  Hoffncr,  in  St.  John's  Palace.) 


106  "THE     UPPER     TEN." 

are  preserved  the  bodies  of  various  feathered  pets  who  have  paid 
their  last  debt  to  nature.  The  most  celebrated  is  a  dove,  which 
many  years  ago,  when  she  visited  Ireland  with  Prince  Albert,  was 
thrown  into  her  carnage  —  a  living  message  of  good  will.  She 
cherished  it  to  the  end  of  its  life;  and  its  descendants  still  flutter 
around  the  towers  of  Windsor. 

Her  stables,  too,  contain  favorites.  Prince  Albert's  horse  sur- 
vived, an  honored  inmate,  until  quite  lately;  and  the  cream-colored 
Herrenhausen  horses  dream  their  lives  away  here  in  luxurious  ease, 
being  used  by  Her  Majesty  only  on  state  occasions. 

"  A  favorite  at  Marlborough  House  "  indicates  clearly  one  taste 
at  least  of  the  exquisite  princess  who  rouses  so  much  enthusiasm 
in  English  hearts;  and  emphasizes  a  little  speech  she  made  at  a 
meeting  of  the  Society  for  Prevention  of  Cruelty  to  Animals. 
"  If,"  said  she,  "  I  have  saved  even  one  cat  from  misery,  I  shall  feel 
that  I  have  done  some  good  in  the  world." 

If  the  cats  at  Windsor  and  Marlborough  House  have  anything 
to  complain  of,  it  can  only  be  over-indulgence.  The  bill  for  their 
silk  throat-ribbons  and  silver  bells  is  a  large  one,  even  at  the  most 
moderate  estimate ;  they  have  their  own  special  cushions  and  at- 
tendants;  they  often  go  out  riding  with  their  royal  mistresses,  and 
when  the  latter  leave  one  palace  for  another,  Messieurs  et  Mesdames 
Les  Chats  travel  with  them,  in  such  state  and  comfort  as  befit  the 
possessions  of  royalty. 

But  now  let  us  turn  from  England  to  France,  and  glance  at  a 
few  pets  there.  A  pleasant  memory  remains  of  Louis  XIII.  —  his 
intercession,  when  a  child,  for  the  poor  cats  that  were  to  be  burned 
as  witches  on  St.  John's  Day.  It  availed  not  only  for  those  par- 
ticular cats,  but  for  all  their  race  henceforth  in  France. 

One  of  his  predecessors,  Henry   III.,  used  to  carry  a  daintily- 


%  ,* 


I 

£ 
I 


» 

2  «. 


THE     UPPER     TEN.  ' 


109 


lined  basket  suspended  from  his  neck  by  a  silken  cord.  As  he 
languidly  talked  with  his  guests  or  courtiers,  he  would  at  intervals, 
with  hands  delicate  as  a  woman's,  sparkling  with  rings,  caress  the 
tiny,  long-haired  dogs  which  occupied  the  basket. 

Louis  XIV.  petted  himself  more  than  any  living~creature  ;  yet 
he  had  some  sympathy  to 
spare    for    his    numerous 
docs ;  he  even  had  their 

o      ' 

portraits  painted,  at  a 
considerable  cost ;  and  he 
also,  presumably,  had  a 
favorite  cat  —  if  the 
story  in  Swift's  Memoirs 
is  one  to  be  relied  upon. 
This  story  is  to  the 
effect  that  during  the 
reign  of  Queen  Anne,  a 
Miss  Nelly  Bennet,  a 
young  lady  who  took  pres- 
tige as  a  great  beauty, 
visited  the  French  court. 

She  traveled  in  the 
care  of  witty  Dr.  Arbuth- 
not,  who  in  a  letter  to  the 

Dean,  describes  the  outbursts  of  admiration  that  greeted  his  fair 
charge. 

"  She  had  great  honours  done  her,"   he    remarks,   then   adds, 
"  and   the   hussar  himself    was    ordered  to    brincf    her    the  kino-'s 

O  O 

cat  to  kiss." 

When   this  important  bit   of    news    came    to    be    reported    in 


A   FAVORITE   AT    MARLBOROUGH   HOUSE. 


IIO  "THE     UPPER     TEN." 

England,  a  wit,  now  unknown,  wrote  a  poem  on  the  event,  describ- 
ing how  — 

"  .     .     .     When  as  Nelly  came  to  France 

(Invited  by  her  cousins), 
Across  the  Tuileries  each  glance 

Killed  Frenchmen  by  whole  dozens. 
The  king,  as  he  at  dinner  sat, 

Did  beckon  to  his  hussar, 
And  bid  him  bring  his  tabby-cat 

For  charming  Nell  to  buss  her." 

Louis  XVI.  had  a  favorite  spaniel,  playful  and  intelligent,  like 
all  its  race.  It  accompanied  him  to  the  prison  which  he  was  only 
to  exchange  for  the  scaffold,  and  was  bequeathed  by  him  as  a  last- 
remembrance  to  his  daughter.  Through  four  years  of  imprison- 
ment it  was  her  only  friend  and  companion,  and  when  upon  her 
release  "  Madame  Royale  "  went  to  her  relatives  in  Austria,  it  was 
not  left  behind.  But  when,  in  1801,  the  royal  exiles  were  in  War- 
saw, the  poor  little  favorite  fell  from  a  balcony  in  the  Poniatowsky 
Palace,  and  was  instantly  killed. 

The  first  Napoleon  cared  little  for  any  animal  —  except  his 
war-horses.  Cats,  indeed,  he  detested ;  and  of  Fortune  (a  pet  dog 
of  the  Empress  Josephine)  he  was  always  jealous,  and  could  not 
bear  to  see  his  wife  caress  it.  But  age,  they  say,  brings  wisdom  ; 
and  in  his  case,  it  certainly  brought  toleration  —  of  one  dog  at  least. 
Here  is  the  story : 

The  seventeen-year-old  Marie  Louise,  who  was  to  be  his  second 
wife,  had  a  favorite  Italian  greyhound  which  accompanied  her  on 
her  way  into  France.  Her  Austrian  suite  was  replaced  at  the 
frontier  by  a  French  one ;  and  at  Munich  her  last  Austrian  attend- 
ant was  dismissed,  together  with  the  dog  —  a  thing  never  intended 


"  THE     UPPER     TEN. " 


I II 


by  Napoleon,  and  only  effected  by  intrigue.  We  can  imagine  the 
young  girl's  grief,  and  can  readily  believe,  as  the  historian  says, 
that  "  the  acquisition  of  a  colossal  empire  did  not  console  her  for 
the  loss  of  a  little  clog." 

Fortunately  for  all  concerned,  the  story  found  its  ,vvay  to 
Napoleon.  At  once  he  rubbed  his  Aladdin's  lamp  (an  article  all 
emperors  possess),  and  when  he  met  his  bride  a  few  days  later  at 
Compiegne,  he  led  her  -  -  not  to  a  grand  state-chamber,  but  to 
a  cosey  room,  with  a 
strangely  familiar  look. 
Her  husband  was  a 
stranger;  it  was  a  new 
land,  a  new  language,  and 
n  e  w  faces  everywhere. 
But  —  what  was  that  hys- 
terical bark  and  scramble 
that  greeted  her  on  the 
threshold  ?  What  was  that 
frantic  little  figure  bound- 
ing up  into  her  arms? 
What  but  her  own  little  greyhound  brought  there  with  other 
familiar  objects  from  her  old  home,  by  Napoleon's  thoughtful 
care !  She  welcomed  her  pet  with  a  cry  of  delight ;  then  turning, 
thanked,  with  wet  eyes,  the  husband  who  was  no  longer  a  stranger. 

A  few  years  later,  and  the  wheel  of  fortune  suddenly  turned. 
Napoleon  was  an  exile,  and  Louis  XVIII.  (uncle  to  the  Prisoners 
of  the  Temple)  was  king.  About  the  time  when  his  royal  brother 
was  guillotined,  there  also  perished  a  M.  de  Vieux  Pont,  whose 
only  crime  was  the  possession  of  a  parrot  which  said  Vive  le 
roi  !  The  bird  came  very  near  sharing  the  fate  of  its  master,  but 


PET  SPANIEL  OF  LOUIS  XVI.,  COMPANION  OF  HIS  DAUGH- 
TER "  MADAME  ROYALE,"  IN  PRISON. 


112 


THE     UPPER     TEN.  ' 


citizeness  Lebon  promised,  if  its  life  was  spared,  to  teach  it  better 
sentiments,  and  was  allowed  to  take  it  home.  This  happened  in 
the  Reign  of  Terror;  but  now  when  the  Fat  King  reigned,  a  worse 

fate,  through  him,  befell  a 
parrot  of  Napoleonic  sym- 
pathies. A  dog  had  com- 
forted Madame  Royale  in 
her  prison ;  but  neither  she 
nor  her  uncle,  when  they 
arrived  at  power,  had  any 
pity  for  Napoleonists. 

The  parrot's  mistress 
had  fled  from  her  home  in 
Ecouen  on  the  approach  of 
the  Royalists,  leaving  the 
bird  locked  up  in  the  closet 
of  her  room,  with  plenty 
of  food  and  water.  Now  it 
so  chanced  that  Louis  XVIII.  spent  the  night  in  Ecouen,  on  his  way 
to  Paris,  and  was  lodged  in  this  very  room.  In  the  midst  of  his 
slumbers,  he  was  suddenly  startled  by  a  shrill  cry,  close  to  his  ear, 
of  Vim  rempereur  !  Nothing  could  be  seen,  yet  again  and  again 
was  the  cry  repeated.  At  last  the  poor,  insulted,  gouty  king  managed 
to  pull  the  bell-rope  and  summon  his  attendants.  After  consider- 
able search,  they  found  a  door  behind  the  tapestry,  and  forced  it 
open.  There  sat  the  criminal,  chuckling  to  herself,  and  still  shout- 
ing at  intervals,  Vive  rempereur !  Poor  Polly !  her  triumph  was 
short.  It  was  A  has  !  with  Napoleonists  now ;  in  a  moment  her 
neck  was  wrung,  and  a  limp  little  feathered  body  bore  silent  witness 
that  the  Bourbons  had  returned. 


PET    ITALIAN   GREYHOUND   OF    MARIE    LOUISE. 


CARLO    ALBERTO    AND    HIS    FAVORITE    HORSE. 
\nfter  the  faitititi^  by  Vevnet.} 


THE     UPPER     TEN. " 


Far,  far  more  pleasant  is  a  story  told  of  the  young  Duchesse 
de  Berri.  On  the  day  of  her  marriage  to  Louis'  nephew,  she  re- 
tired to  her  room  after  the  ceremony,  and  was  supposed  to  be  rest- 
ing. After  a  while  her  husband  entered.  Fancy  the  surprise,  the 
amusement  with  which  he  witnessed  his  pretty~bride's  diversion. 
She  yet  wore  her  magnificent  marriage  robes  —  a  white  brocade 
heavily  embroidered  with  silver,  and  a  diamond  coronet  surmounted 
by  white  ostrich  plumes;  but  the  enormous  train  —  six  yards  long 
—  she  had  twisted  several  times  over  her  arm.  Thus  disencum- 
bered, she  was  singing  blithely,  and 
dancing  to  her  song  with  a  pet 
spaniel  she  had  brought  from 
Naples,  and  which  she  held  by  the 
forepaws. 

Another  turn  of  the  wheel,  a 
few  years  later,  seated  a  third 
Napoleon  and  Eugenie  upon  the 
throne.  The  latter  was  particularly 
fond  of  a  Mexican  parrot  called 
Montezuma.  When,  in  1870,  the 
Empire  came  to  an  end,  and  she 
fled  to  England,  all  her  possessions 
were  left  behind  in  her  hurried 
flight  from  the  Tuileries.  It  was 
not  until  the  imperial  family 
was  settled  at  Chiselhurst,  that, 
remembering  Montezuma,  she  sent  a  trusty  attendant  to  France, 
to  search  for  him.  Almost  a  year  passed  by  before  he  was 
found,  exposed  for  sale  in  a  shop !  Then  he  was  re-bought ; 
he  crossed  the  Channel  in  safety ;  a  few  hours  more,  and  the  ex- 


VICTOR    EMMANUEL   AND    HIS   DOG. 
(From  life  photograph,') 


XI6  "THE     UPPER     TEN." 

empress  was  petting  him  as  of  old.  But  not  as  of  old  did  he 
respond  to  her  endearments,  nibble  the  sweetmeats  she  offered, 
and  say  with  flattering  approval,  Vive  limperatrice !  No,  all  was 
changed.  Sullenly  he  declined  sugar,  pineapple,  sweet  biscuit ; 
sullenly  he  withdrew  from  her  caressing  touch  ;  and  sullenly  at 
last  he  spoke :  Vive  la  republique !  Truly  the  empire  had 
passed  away. 

The  princes  of  Savoy  have  always  entertained  a  soldierly  liking 
for  horse  and  hound;  and  with  war  for  their  occupation,  and  hunt- 
ing for  diversion,  they  have  had  abundant  opportunity  to  test  the 
good  qualities  and  friendship  of  these  animals.  There  is  a  mu- 
seum in  Turin  where  many  of  their  favorite  horses  —  stuffed  and 
mounted  —  are  preserved.  Especially  interesting  is  the  "  Favorito 
Cavallo "  of  Carlo  Alberto,  which,  according  to  the  inscription, 
was  his  chosen  mount  in  peace,  and  which  bore  him  safely 
through  the  campaign  of  1848-49.  It  accompanied  him  into 
exile,  and  finally  (1866)  died  in  Turin,  at  the  age  of  thirty  years. 

Several  horses  in  the  museum  belonged  to  Victor  Emmanuel. 
This  patriotic  and  jolly  king  was  " innamorato  dci  cani"  especially 
of  four  hounds,  the  companions  of  his  hunting  trips.  He  was 
never  so  happy  as  when  off  on  one  of  these  expeditions.  Often  he 
would  dismount  and  stretch  himself  on  the  ground  beneath  a  tree, 
his  horse  and  dogs  grouped  around  him.  Then,  with  a  sigh  of 
luxurious  comfort,  he  would  say:  "  Ouf  !  how  happy  am  I  here, 
and  thus!  What  a  beastly  trade,  what  a  pig-occupation,  is  this  of 
being  a  king!  "  (Che porco  mestiero  e  quello  di  fare  il  Re  !  ) 

And  again :  "  How  well  off  should  I  be  if  I  only  always  could 
live  quietly,  at  ease  among  these  friends !  "  patting,  as  he  spoke, 
first  one  dog,  then  another.  Poor  king  !  he  had  given  a  United 
Italy  to  his  people ;  to  himself  he  could  grant  few  hours  of  ease. 


V. 

A  NOTABLE  CANINE   TRIO. 


V. 


A   NOTABLE   CANINE   TRIO. 


IN  almost  every  library  where  the  owner  has  an  antiquarian  taste 
may  be  found  a  pair  of  stout,  leather-bound  volumes,  bearing 
a  kind  of  "  important-facts  "  appearance  which  the  title,  stamped  in 
gilt,  airily  contradicts.     Nugcc  antique,  it  reads.     Trifles,  in  fine  ; 
anecdotes,  memoranda  of  things  passed  by. 

The  writer  of  the  N^lgce  was  Sir  John  Harrington  — a  man  of 
literary  tastes,  witty,  vivacious,  warm-hearted  and  sarcastic.  He 
put  into  his  collection  a  little  about  a  good  many  things.  There 
are  items  of  secret  or  curious  history;  there  are  good  stories  about 
"  King  Elizabeth  and  Queen  James,"  as  some  witty  person  entitled 
them  ;  there  are  letters ;  and  there  is  one  letter,  above  all,  full  of 
interest  and  feeling,  "concerninge  his  dogge,  Bungey."  It  was 
written  to  the  young  Prince  Henry,  King  James's  oldest  son  ;  and 
Sir  John  evidently  thought  it  worth  while  to  make  a  copy,  before 
sending  away  the  original.  It  is  only  a  trifle  in  the  great  sum  of 
history  —  yet  a  trifle  that  means  much.  The  brilliant  Sir  John 
comes  very  near  us  as  we  read ;  and  none  of  his  wit  pleases  us  so 
well  as  this  simple  and  affectionate  tribute  to  the  dog  he  had  lost. 

119 


I2O 


A   NOTABLE    CANINE    TRIO. 


One  or  two  facts  "  concerninge  "  Bungey's  owner  may  not  be 
amiss  before  giving  the  letter. 

When  Elizabeth  of  England  was  a  simply-dressed  princess  in- 
stead of  the  elaborately  got-up  potentate  into  which  she  afterwards 
developed,  she  had  the  ill-luck  to  be  suspected  of  aimino-  at  her 
sister's  throne.  In  consequence,  not  only  was  she  herself  put  into 

the  Tower,  but  various 
friends  of  hers  were  ar- 
rested, among  them  a 
gentleman  named  Har- 
rington. He  was  heavily 
fined,  besides  being  im- 
prisoned. When,  how- 
ever, a  few  years  later, 
Elizabeth  became  queen, 
she  did  not  forget  her 
old  adherent,  and  among 
other  marks  of  favor, 
stood  godmother  to  his 
son  John,  afterwards  Sir 
John  Harrington.  The 
fortunate  baby  grew  up 
into  a  handsome  and  en- 
tertaining young  man, 
with  such  an  aptitude  for 
saying  bright  things  that  his  reputation  spread  far  and  wide.  A 
maid-servant  at  an  inn  waited  very  carefully  on  him,  for  fear  that 
if  he  were  neglected,  he  "  would  make  an  epigram  of  her."  Even 
the  Queen  used  to  speak  of  him  as  her  "witty  godson."  She  prob- 
ably had  no  idea  his  wit  ever  turned  on  her  own  foibles,  as  well 


PRINCE    HENRY,   ELDEST   SON    OF  JAME-S   I. 
(From  rare  print  by  Crispin  Pass.) 


A   NOTABLE    CANINE    TRIO.  12 1 

as  those  of  other  people.     That  it  did  so,  however,  appears  from 
his  journal. 

One  item,  remembering  Elizabeth's  three  thousand  dresses,  is 

especially  amusing: 

"  On  Sunday,  my  Lorde  of  London  preachede  to  the  Queene's  Majestic,  and  seemede  to  touch 
on  the  vanitie  of  deckinge  the  bodie  too  finely.  Her  Majestic  tolde  the  Ladies  that  if  the  Bishope 
helde  move  discorse  on  such  matters,  she  wolde  fit  him  for  Heaven,  but  he  shoulde  walke  thither 
withoute  a  staffe,  and  leave  his  mantle  behinde  him  ;  perchance  the  Bishope  hathe  never  soughte 
her  Highnesse  wardrobe,  or  he  wolde  have  chosen  another  texte." 

The  same  hobby  that  led  her  to  number  her  own  dresses  by 
the  thousand,  and  her  wigs  by  the  hundred,  led  her  also  to  inter- 
fere with  the  clothes  of  her  subjects.  One  gentleman  wore  a  suit 
she  did  not  like,  and  she  spit  upon  it,  to  show  her  aversion ; 
"  Heaven  spare  me  such  jibinge ! "  says  poor  Sir  John.  In  fact, 
although  the  Queen's  godson,  he  had  to  tread  carefully  at  court ! 
and  King  James's  easy  rule  must  have  been  a  relief  to  him. 
Especially  did  he  enjoy  the  friendship  of  Prince  Henry,  to  whom, 
in  1608,  he  wrote  the  famous  letter  about  "  Bungey." 

"  Having  good  reason,"  he  says,  "to  thinke  your  Highnesse  had 
goode  will  and  likinge  to  reade  what  others  have  tolde  of  my  rare 
clogge,  I  will  even  give  a  brief  historic  of  his  goode  deedes  and 
strannge  feates  ;  and  herein  will  I  not  plaie  the  curr  myselfe,  but 
in  good  sooth  relate  what  is  no  more  nor  lesse  than  bare  verity. 
Although  I  meane  not  to  disparage  the  deedes  of  Alexander's 
horse,  I  will  match  my  dogge  against  him  for  good  carriage  ;  for  if 
he  did  not  bear  a  great  prince  on  his  back,  I  am  bold  to  saie  he 
did  often  bear  the  sweet  wordes  of  a  greater  princesse  on  his 
necke. 

"  I  did  once  relate  to  your  Highnesse  after  what  sorte  his  tack- 


122  A    NOTABLE    CANINE    TRIO. 

linge  was  wherewithe  he  did  sojourn  from  my  house  to  the 
bathe  to  Greenwiche  Palace,  and  deliver  up  to  the  Courte  there 
such  matters  as  were  entrusted  to  his  care.  This  he  hath  often 
done,  and  came  safe  to  the  bathe,  or  my  howse  here  at  Kelstone, 
with  goodlie  returnes  from  such  nobilitie  as  were  pleasede  to  cm- 
ploie  him ;  nor  was  it  ever  tolde  our  ladie  queene  that  this  mes- 
senger did  ever  blab  ought  concerninge  his  highe  truste,  as  others 
have  done  in  more  special  matters.  Neither  must  it  be  forgotten 
as  how  he  once  was  sente  withe  two  charges  of  sack  wine  from  the 
bathe  to  my  house,  by  my  man  Combe ;  and  on  his  way  the  cord- 
age did  slackene,  but  my  trustie  bearer  did  now  bear  himselfe  so 
wisely  as  to  covertly  hide  one  flasket  in  the  rushes,  and  take  the 
other  in  his  teeth  to  the  howse,  after  which  he  wente  forthe,  and 
returnede  with  the  other  parte  of  his  burden  to  dinner  ;  hereat 
your  Highnesse  may  perchance  marvel  and  doubte,  but  we  have 
livinge  testimonie  of  those  who  wroughte  in  the  fields,  and  espiede 
his  worke.  .  .  . 

"  I  need  not  saie  how  muche  I  did  once  grieve  at  missinge  this 
dogge,  for  on  my  journiee  towardes  Londone,  some  idle  pastimers 
.  .  .  .  conveyed  him  to  the  Spanish  ambassador's,  where  in  a 
happie  houre  after  six  weekes  I  did  heare  of  him  ;  but  such  was 
the  Courte  he  did  pay  to  the  Don,  that  he  was  no  less  in  good 
likinge  there  than  at  home.  Nor  did  the  howsehold  listen  to  my 
claim  ....  till  I  rested  my  suite  on  the  dogge's  own  proofs, 
and  made  him  performe  such  feates  before  the  nobles  as  put  it  past 
doubt  that  I  was  his  master.  I  did  send  him  to  the  halle  in  the 
time  of  dinner,  and  made  him  bringe  thence  a  pheasant  out  the 
dish,  which  created  much  mirthe,  but  muche  more  when  he  re- 
turnede at  my  commandment  to  the  table  again,  and  put  it  again 
in  the  same  cover.  Herewith  the  companie  was  well  content  to 


A    NOTABLE    CANINE    TRJO.  i2-> 

«_> 

allowe  me  my  claim,  and  we  both  were  well  content  to  accept  it, 
and  came  homewardes. 

"  I  will  now  saie  in  what  manner  he  died.  As  we  travelled  to- 
wards the  bathe,  he  leapede  on  my  horse's  necke,  and  was  more 
earneste  in  fawninge  and  courtinge  my  notice  than  what  I  had  ob- 
served for  time  backe,  and  after  my  chidinge  his  disturbing  my 
passinge  forwards,  he  gave  me  some  glances  of  such  affection  as 
movede  me  to  cajole  him  ;  but  alass  he  crept  suddenly  into  a 
thorny  brake,  and  died  in  a  short  time. 

"  Thus  I  have  strove  to  rehearse  such  of  his  deedes  as  maie 
suggest  much  more  to  youre  Highnesse'  thought  of  this  dogge. 
Now  let  Ulysses  praise  his  dogge  Argus,  or  Tobite  be  led  by  that 
dogge  whose  name  doth  not  appeare,  yet  could  I  say  such  things 
of  my  Bungey,  for  so  he  was  styled,  as  might  shame  them  bothe, 
either  for  good  faith,  clear  wit,  or  wonderful  deedes ;  to  saie  no 
more  than  I  have  said  of  his  bearing  letters  to  London  and  Green- 
wiche  more  than  an  hundred  miles.  As  I  doubte  not  but  your 
Highnesse  would  love  my  dogge  if  not  myself,  I  have  been  thus 
tedious  in  his  story,  and  againe  saie,  that  of  all  the  dogges  near 
your  father's  courte,  not  one  hathe  more  love,  more  diligence  to 
please,  or  less  pay  for  pleasinge,  than  him  I  write  of.  ... 

"  I  now  reste  your  Highnesse'  friend  in  all  services  that  maye 
suite  him. 

"  P.  S.  I  have  an  excellent  picture  (of  Bungey)  curiously 
limned,  to  remain  in  my  posterity." 

Of  this  excellent  picture  I  have  been  unable  to  find  any  trace; 
but  the  word-picture  is  wonderfully  vivid,  and  Bungey  will  live  as 
long  as  the  letter  survives  to  tell  his  story. 

Not  long  before  it  was  written,  Sir  John  had  noted  in  his 
journal  that  "  My  man  Ralphe  hathe  stolen  two  cheeses  from  my 


124  A   NOTABLE   CANINE    TRW. 

dairy-house.  I  wishe  he  were  chokede  herewyth  —  and  yet,  the 
fellovve  hath  five  childerne :  I  wyll  not  sue  him  if  he  repentethe 
and  amendethe."  Kind-hearted  Sir  John  !  Small  wonder  that 
Bungey  loved  him,  or  that  when,  some  four  years  later,  he  died,  he 
left  behind  him  many  friends,  and  hardly  an  enemy. 

During  the  next  reign,  in  another  county  of  England,  lived 
another  dog,  the  opposite  of  Bungey  in  appearance  and  manners, 
but  who,  nevertheless,  has  attained  a  wide  fame.  He  was  no  clog 
of  the  courts,  graceful  and  dapper ;  he  knew  no  tricks  to  enchance 
the  value  of  a  faithful  heart ;  in  fact,  he  was  only  a  large,  ungainly 
mastiff,  whose  merits  as  a  watch-dog  were  all  that  recommended 
him.  He  belonged  to  old  Sir  Henry  Lee  of  Ditchley,  and  the  way 
in  which  his  name  became  notable,  is  this  : 

He  was  a  "  yard-dog,"  and  of  course  slept  outside  of  the  house. 
One  night,  however,  he  persisted  in  following  the  master  to  his 
bedroom.  Blows  and  persuasion  were  alike  useless  to  drive  him 
away.  The  Italian  valet  shut  the  door  upon  him,  and  then  the 
animal  sat  down  outside  and  howled.  Probably  Sir  Henry  re- 
flected that  at  this  rate  he  would  get  no  sleep  at  all.  At  any 
rate,  as  the  least  of  two  evils,  he  ordered  the  door  to  be  opened. 
In  walked  the  mastiff,  silenced  at  last,  and  content;  for  "  with  a 
was  of  the  tail,  and  a  look  of  affection  at  his  lord,"  he  crawled 

O 

under  the  bed  and  lay  down.  Matters  being  thus  peaceably 
adjusted,  the  valet  left  the  room,  and  Sir  Henry  settled  himself  for 
sleep.  About  midnight,  the  quiet  was  broken  by  a  sudden  disturb- 
ance and  uproar.  The  mastiff  had  sprung  from  his  ambush,  and 
seized  some  one  by  the  throat.  When  the  half-strangled  victim, 
through  Sir  Harry's  interference,  was  released,  it  proved  to  be  no 
other  than  the  amiable  Italian  who  had  exerted  himself  a  few 


A   NOTABLE    CANINE    TRIO.  125 

hours  before  to  drive  the  dog  from  the  room.  Now,  under  the 
influence  of  fright,  and  the  fear  of  prosecution,  he  confessed  that 
his  object  was  the  murder  and  robbery  of  his  master. 

By  this  time,  I  take  it,  the  house  was  roused.  One  can  readily 
imagine  the  scene:  Sir  Harry  in  his  laced  night-gear,  the  fright- 
ened servants,  the  scared  yet  sullen  criminal,  still  held  in  check  by 
an  occasional  low  growl  from  his  late  assailant.  And  the  mastiff 
himself  —  can  you  not  see  the  uncouth,  powerful,  sagacious  figure, 
his  whole  attention  centered  on  the  would-be-thief,  and  quite  un- 
aware that  he  himself  is  the  hero  of  the  hour  ? 

But  such  he  was,  and  Sir  Harry  Lee  of  Ditchley  —  a  just  man 
and  gallant  soldier  —  knew  how  both  to  appreciate  and  reward  his 
fidelity.  We  set  up  statues  to  our  great  men,  or,  in  Sir  Harry's 
own  England,  valor  and  genius  find  memorial  in  Westminster 
Abbey. 

To  commemorate  then,  in  like  manner,  the  heroic  deed  of 
his  mastiff,  Sir  Harry  had  a  painting  made  by  Johnson,  an  artist 
of  note.  It  represents  the  old  soldier  wrapped  in  a  leather  cloak 
that  harmonizes  well  with  his  powerful  frame  and  look  of  activity. 
Beside  him  is  the  mastiff,  and,  at  the  bottom  of  the  picture,  this 
inscription  : 

"  More  Faithful  than  Favoured." 

"  Reason  in  man  cannot  effect  such  love 

As  Nature  doth  in  them  that  Reason  want  : 
Ulysses  true  and  kind  his  dog  did  prove 

When  Faith  in  better  friends  was  very  scant. 
My  travels  for  my  Friends  have  been  as  true 

Tho'  not  as  far  as  Fortune  did  him  bear; 
No  friends  my  Love  and  Faith  divided  knew, 

Tho'  neither  this  nor  that  once  equall'd  were, 

But  in  my  dog,  whereof  I  made  no  store, 

I  find  more  love  than  them  I  trusted  more." 


126  A   NOTABLE    CANINE    TRIO. 

About  this  time,  King  Charles  had  a  nephew  sufficiently  famous 
to  make  all  his  belongings  noteworthy;  and  no  account  of  famous 
dogs  would  be  complete  without  some  sketch  of  Prince  Rupert's 
white  hound  Boy.  A  beautiful  lad  this  young  prince  must  have 
been,  as  Vandyke  has  painted  him,  with  Boy  at  his  side.  Always 
adventurous  and  daring,  but  with  a  dash  and  fire  in  his  daring  quite 
beyond  the  usual  soldierly  courage,  he  won  something  like  adora- 
tion from  his  troopers.  After  a  manhood  of  war,  his  last  years 
were  very  quiet,  and  being  of  a  scientific  turn,  he  spent  much  time 
in  experiments.  The  art  of  engraving  owes  him  a  large  debt,  and 
"  Prince  Rupert's  Drops,"  still  commemorate  his  name.  And  as  to 
his  character,  whatever  faults  he  might  have,  he  was  still,  as  one 
writer  tells  us,  "so  just,  so  beneficent,  so  courteous,  that  his  mem- 
ory remained  dear  to  all  who  knew  him.  This  I  say  of  my  own 
knowledge,  having  often  heard  old  people  in  Berkshire  speak  in 
raptures  of  Prince  Rupert." 

Many,  indeed,  are  the  stories  told  about  this  beautiful  and  dar- 
ing boy,  of  his  headlong  courage,  his  warm  heart,  his  kindness  and 
pluck.  Once  he  was  out  hunting,  and  the  fox  took  to  the  earth. 
"A  dos;  which  the  Prince  loved,  followed,  but  returning  not,  His 

o  o 

Highnesse,  being  impatient,  crept  after,  and  took  hold  of  his  legs, 
which  he  could  not  draw  out  by  reason  of  the  narrowness  of  the 
hole,  until  Mr.  Billingsby  (the  Prince's  tutor)  took  hold  of  His 
Highnesse's  heels ;  so  he  drew  out  the  Prince,  the  Prince  the  dog, 
and  the  dog  the  fox." 

When  a  mere  lad,  Rupert  was  taken  prisoner,  and  detained  for 
nearly  three  years  in  the  Castle  of  Lintz,  on  the  Danube.  Time 
hung  heavy  on  his  hands  here,  but  part  of  it  he  whiled  away  with 
pets.  He  even  succeeded  in  taming  a  hare,  so  that  it  would  trot 
after  him  like  a  spaniel,  and  perform  little  tricks  at  his  command. 


PRINCE  RUPERT   WITH    HIS   WHITE    DOG   BOY. 

(From  the  painting  fy  Vandyke.) 


A   NOTABLE    CANINE    TRIO. 


129 


But  his  chief  companion  and  diversion  was  Boy,  a  hound  given 
him  by  Lord  Arundel,  to  lighten  his  captivity.  It  was  of  "  a  breede 
so  famous  that  the  Grand  Turk  gave  it  in  particular  injunction  to 
his  ambassadour  to  obtaine  him  a  puppie  thereof."  When  Rupert 
was  released,  Boy  shared  his  freedom,  and  became  an  inseparable 
friend. 

Many  an  old  lady  in  those  hard  days  was  suspected  of  being  a 
witch,  and  holding  secret  confabs  with  the  Devil,  after  a  midnight 
ride  through  the  air  on  a  broomstick.  If  she  had  a  cat,  especially 
a  black  one,  poor  Pussy  was  considered  a  go-between,  and  was 
liable  to  be  burned.  Dogs,  too,  fell  under  suspicion  now  and  then  ; 
and  as  Prince  Rupert  was  thought  by  the  Puritan  faction  to  act 
under  the  Devil's  guidance,  so  Boy  was  supposed  to  run  on  mes- 
sages between  the  unholy  allies.  In  the  Bodleian  Library  there  is 
carefully  preserved  an  old  pamphlet  of  1642,  entitled  "  Observations 
on  Prince  Rupert's  dogge,  called  Boye,"  which  amusingly  details 
the  different  views  about  him. 

"  I  have  kept  a  very  strict  eye,"  says  the  writer,  "  upon  this 
dogge,  whom  I  cannot  conclude  to  be  a  very  dounright  divell,  but 
some  Lapland  laclye,  once  by  nature  a  handsome  white  ladye,  but 
now  by  art  a  handsome  white  dogge.  They  have  many  times 
attempted  to  destroye  it  by  poyson,  and  extempore  prayer  (!)  but 
they  have  hurt  him  no  more  than  the  plague  plaister  did  Mr.  Pym." 
In  fact  — 

'Twas  like  a  Dog,  yet  there  was  none  did  knowe 
Whether  it  Devill  was,  or  Dog,  or  no. 

Every  squib  or  broadside  of  abuse  directed  against  the  prince 
must  also  hit  poor  Boy,  and  in  several  he  figures  very  cleverly. 
One  of  the  most  amusing  is  "  A  Dialogue  between  Prince  Rupert's 


I30  A   NOTABLE    CANINE    TRIO. 

Dogge,  whose  name  is  Puddle,  and  Tobie's  Dog,  whose  name  is 
Pepper."  It  bears  date  1643,  and  opens  with  a  sledge-hammer 
contest  of  wits  between  the  Royalist  and  Puritan  dogs,  under 
whose  names  are  but  thinly  veiled  the  two  great  parties  of  the 
day. 

Prince  Rupert's  dog  opens  the  parley  with  great  disdain  : 

"  What  yelping,  whindling  Puppy-Dog  art  thou  ?  "  And  honest 
Tobie's  dog  retorts  the  question : 

"  What  bauling,  shag-hair'd  Cavallier's  Dogge  art  thou  ?  " 

"  Pr.  R.  D.  Thou  art  a  dogged  sir,  or  cur,  grumble  no  more 
but  tell  me  thy  name." 

"  T.  D.  I  was  called  Tobie's  house-dog.  .  .  .  my  name  is 
Pepper." 

"  P.  R.  D.  Though  your  zeal  be  never  so  hot,  you  shall  not 
bite  me,  Pepper." 

"  T.  D.  I'll  barke  before  I  bite,  and  talke  before  I  fight.  I 
heare  you  are  Prince  Rupert's  white  Boy." 

"  P.  R.  D.     I  am  none  of  his  white  Boy,  my  name  is  Puddle." 

"  T.  D.  A  dirty  name  indeede  ;  you  are  not  pure  enough  for 
my  company,  besides  I  heare  on  both  sides  of  my  eares  that  you 
are  a  Laplander,  or  Fin-land  Dog  or,  truly,  no  better  than  a  witch 
in  the  shape  of  a  white  Dogge." 

Hereupon  Prince  Rupert's  dog  calls  the  other  "a  Round-headed 
Puppy  that  doth  bawle  and  rayle ; "  and  Tobie's  Dog  retorts  that 
Puddle  is  "  a  Popish,  profane  dog,  .  .  .  more  than  half-clivell. 
It  is  known,"  he  says,  "that  at  Edgehill  you  walked  invisible,  and 
directed  the  bullets  who  they  should  hit,  and  who  they  shoulde 
misse,  and  made  your  Mister  Prince  Rupert  shott-free." 

And  so  on,  through  several  amusing  pages.  It  is  a  pleasant 
and  fun-inspiring  jest;  but  other  productions  of  the  time  strike  a 


A   NOTABLE    CANINE    TRIO. 


note  of  savage  hate,  strange  enough,  as  applied  to  an  innocent 
clog. 

Boy's  fate  befitted  a  soldier's  dog  :  on  the  fatal  field  of  Marston 
Moor,  where  many  a  gallant  cavalier  was  slain,  he  also  fell,  shot  to 
the  heart.     As  The  More 
True  Relation,  a  Puritan 
statement,  says  :    "  Here 
also   was    slain    that    ac- 
cursed cur  which  is  here 
mentioned    by    the    way, 
because  the  Prince's  dog 
hath  been  so  much  spoken 

of,   and   was  prized  by  his          PURITAN   CARICATURE  OF   THE  DEATH   OF   PRINCE 

RUPERT'S  WHITE  HOUND  BOY. 

master  more  than  creat-  (From  Mfamfhiet  ,•„  British  Muse,,m.) 

ures  of  much  more  worth." 

Even  his  master's  grief  at  his  loss  was  a  subject  of  derision  ; 
and  shortly  after  Boy's  death  a  squib  appeared,  called  :  "  A  Dogge's 
Elegie,  or  Rupert's  Teares  for  the  late  defeat  given  him  at  Marston 
Moor  neere  York  .  .  .  where  his  beloved  Dogge,  named 
Boye,  was  killed  by  a  valliant  souldier  who  had  skill  in  Necro- 
mancy." (He  is  said  to  have  used  a  silver  bullet,  Boy  being  proof 
against  leaden  ones.) 

An  old  pamphlet  contains  a  queer  woodcut,  representing  his 
death,  and  then  several  lines  of  doggerel,  beginning: 

"  Sad  Cavaliers,  Rupert  invites  you  all 
That  doe  survive,  to  his  Dog's  Funerall." 

So  lived  and  perished  Boy,  his  master's  well-loved  friend,  his 
master's  enemies'  aversion  —  and  almost  the  only  instance  in 
history  of  an  animal  being  the  object  of  violent  party-hate. 


A   NOTABLE    CANINE    TRIO. 


Prince  Rupert  had  other  pets,  both  dogs  and  horses,  but  none 
so  dear  as  his  white  hound.  Perhaps  the  most  affecting  instance 
of  his  feeling  after  Boy's  death,  is  shown  in  a  letter  to  Will  Legge, 
written  in  1661.  It  bears  "  the  dolefull  news  that  poor  Royall  at 
this  time  is  dying,  after  being  the  cause  of  the  death  of  many  a 
stag.  By  heaven,"  he  bursts  out,  "  I  had  rather  lose  the  best  horse 
in  my  stable  !  " 

With  this  —  as  a  last  pleasant  memory  of  Rupert  —  we  will 
leave  him. 


VI. 
PETS    IN    ARTIST    LIFE. 


VI. 


PETS     IN     ARTIST    LIFE. 

FOR  the  artist  pets  have  a  peculiar  value.  Not  only  are  they 
companions  and  live  playthings  —  they  are  also  "  properties." 
Portrait  and  landscape  painters  use  them  as  accessories ;  animal 
painters  and  sculptors  find  in  them  their  models.  They  live  in 
close  companionship  with  their  human  friends,  and  the  tie  between 
them  is  usually  warm  and  lasting.  An  exception  might  be  the  cat 
whose  fur  was  sacrificed  to  the  early  genius  of  Benjamin  West.  In 
default  of  brushes,  the  lad  used  first  the  long  hairs  from  her  tail, 
then  the  shorter  ones  from  her  body  —  until  she  was  half-shorn. 
True,  one  of  his  biographers  assures  us  that  he  laid  hold  of  her 
"with  all  due  caution,  and  attention  to  her  feelings  ";  but  this  is 
clearly  a  post-mortem  statement  —  he  had  never  interviewed  Pussy  ! 
Fox,  a  beautiful  Pomeranian  dog  belonging  to  Gainsborough, 
occasionally  served  as  model  ;  but  his  most  important  office  was  to 
act  as  peacemaker  between  the  artist  and  his  wife.  Sometimes, 
"  as  through  the  land  at  eve  they  went,"  they  would  fall  out;  and 
then  the  dignified  restraint  between  them  would  be  first  broken  by 
one  or  the  other  writing  some  words  of  reconciliation,  and  giving 

'35 


PETS    IN    ARTIST    LIFE. 


the  note  to  Fox.     Off  he  would  bound  with  it  to  the  other  party, 
and  a  messenger  so  charming  always  proved  irresistible. 

Sir  Joshua  Reynolds'  many  dogs,  to  all  of  whom  he  was  much 
attached,  can  be  traced  in  regular  order  through  his  portraits,  es- 
pecially those  of  chil- 
dren. The  Italian  grey- 
hound, the  Scotch  ter- 
rier, the  silky-haired 
spaniel  or  setter,  are  as 
well-known  as  his  own 
features.  A  specially 
attractive  picture  repre- 
sents little  Miss  Chol- 
mondely  carrying  her 
dog  over  a  brook.  The 
pretty  anxiety  of  the 
child  and  the  unconcern 
of  her  pet  are  amusingly 
contrasted.  Hardly  less 
charming  are  the  por- 
traits of  Miss  Bowles 
with  a  spaniel,  and  an 
unknown  Felina 
a  kitten. 


MISS    KOWLES. 
(From  the  painting  by  Sir  Joshua  Key nolds.) 


nug- 


Of  a  favorite  macaw  which  often  appeared  in  his  pictures,  a 
story  is  told  almost  as  wonderful,  Sir  Joshua  thought,  as  that  of 
the  painted  grapes  which  deceived  the  birds.  For  this  bird  in- 
stantly recognized  the  portrait  of  a  servant  whom  he  hated,  and 
tried  to  bite  the  pictured  face.  Dr.  Johnson  and  Oliver  Goldsmith 
came  several  times  to  see  this  performance,  and  Reynolds  declared 


"KRII'NDS    NOW,    Pl'S^Y  I  " 
Front  the  painting  by  Angelica  Kauffmann,' 


PETS    IN    ARTIST    LIFE. 


139 


that,  in  his  opinion,  "  birds  and  beasts  were  as  good  judges  of 
pictures  as  men  are." 

There  remains  to  us  an  affecting  last  glimpse  of  this  famous 
painter  after  he  had  lost  his  sight  and  could  no  longer  pursue  the 
art  he  loved.  In  this  premature  night  he  found"  much  comfort 
with  a  tame  bird,  until  one  morning  the  window  was  left  open,  and 
it  flew  away.  His  grief,  though  deep,  was  happily  of  short  dura- 
tion. Death  came  to  his 
relief,  and  he  escaped  from 
the  body,  even  as  the  bird 
from  the  house. 

One  of  his  favorite 
pupils,  Angelica  Kauff- 
mann,  painted  a  charming 
picture  called  "  Friends 
now,  Pussy."  It  depicts 
a  radiant  little  girl  holding 
in  her  arms  a  kitten  whose 
contented  purr  \ve  cannot 
fail  to  hear,  so  perfectly  is 
it  susfsrestecl. 

oo 

Hogarth  was  the  paint- 
er of  human  life  as  it  is; 
of  people  good,  bad  and 
indifferent  — -noble  or 
base.  But  wherever  man 

is,  there  also  is  the  dog  ;  and  so  throughout  this  artist's  work  we  find 
him  —  now  a  drawing-room  pet,  and  now  a  vagabond  ;  now  man's 
companion  and  now  his  victim.  Hogarth's  own  dog,  Trump,  surveys 
us  rather  sourly  from  the  same  canvas  with  his  master.  Very 


THE   FAINTER    HOGARTH  AND    HIS   DOG   TRUMP. 


140  PETS    IN    ARTIST    LIFE. 

likely  it  was  the  curly  tip  of  his  tail  that  suggested  the  famous 
sketch  in  three  lines  of  a  sergeant  with  his  pike  going  into  a  house, 
and  his  dog  following  him.  Hogarth  executed  the  picture  thus  : 


A 

A  —  Perspective  line  of  the  door. 

B  —  End  of  the  sergeant's  pike,  who  is  gone  in. 

C  —  End  of  the  dog's  tail,  who  is  following  him. 


To  be  understood,  however,  it  is  certainly  best  to  place  design 
and  explanation  side  by  side. 

Mrs.  Hogarth  also  had  a  dog,  which  eventually  was  buried  at 
the  end  of  a  filbert  walk  in  her  yard  at  Chiswick.  A  stone  marked 
the  grave,  and  Hogarth  himself  cut  the  epitaph  : 

"  Life  to  the  last  enjoyed,  here  Pompey  lies." 

I  tried  not  long  ago,  though  without  success,  to  find  some  trace 
of  this  grave.  In  the  oldest,  quaintest  part  of  Chiswick  stands 
Hogarth's  house,  still  bearing  his  name,  and  probably,  as  to  stone 
and  mortar,  much  the  same  as  when  he  lived  there.  But  the  once 
beautiful  garden  is  now  in  part  a  vegetable  plot,  and  in  part  an  un- 
tidy barnyard.  A  venerable  mulberry-tree  and  some  gnarled  old 
yews  are  still  standing  —  "  sole  relics  of  a  finer  past  ";  but  of  the 
filbert  walk  there  remains  only  a  row  of  little  stumps  with  here  and 
there  a  straggling  branch.  No  trace  of  Pompey  anywhere,  unless 
in  tradition;  "she  had  heard,"  said  the  mistress  of  the  house, 
"  that  a  dog  had  been  buried  somewhere  there."  And  —  final  touch 
—  two  pigs  looked  out  from  the  doorway,  squealing  shrilly  as  we 
passed!  It  seemed  a  pity  that  Hogarth  should  not  see  them  ;  no 


PETS    IN    ARTIST    LIFE. 


141 


one  would  have  sooner  appreciated  the  humor  of  the  scene.     But 
-life  to  the  last  enjoyed  —  he  lies  in  Chiswick  churchyard. 

Famous  among  Middle  Age  painters  was  Paolo  Uccello —  Paul 
of  the  Birds  —  who  won  this  sobriquet  by  his  extreme  delight  in 
birds.  They  were  his  ruling  passion,  and  appeared  in  his  pictures 
both  in  and  out  of  season. 

More  famous  was  the 
eccentric  Bazzi,  who,  ac- 
cording to  the  pleasant 
old  gossip,  Vasari,  "  was 
fond  of  keeping  in  his 
house  all  sorts  of  strange 
animals  —  badgers,  squir- 
rels, cat-a-mountains, 
dwarf  monkeys,  horses, 
racers,  little  Elba  ponies, 
jackdaws,  bantams,  doves 
of  India,  and  other  creat- 
ures of  this  kind,  so 
many  as  he  could  lay  his 
hands  on."  Over  and 
above,  he  had  a  raven 
which  had  learned  to  talk 
and  to  imitate  its  master's 
voice,  especially  in  an- 


/ 

r 


,-ff 


PORTRAIT    OF    AI.BRECHT    DURER    AT   THIRTEEN. 
{Drawn  /y  himself.) 


swering  a    knock    at   the 


door.     "  His  house  was   like   nothing  more  than   a   Noah's  ark," 
adds  Vasari. 

Of  Vittore  Carpaccio's  likes  and  dislikes  little  is  known,  but 
Ruskin  praises  as  one  of  the  finest  paintings  in  the  world,  a  Vene- 


142 


PETS     IN    ARTIST    LIFE. 


tian  interior  by  him,  representing  two  fair  dames  surrounded  by 
animals.  Two  dogs  — one  small,  one  large  —  a  peacock,  doves,  a 
turtle  and  a  lizard  —  such  were  the  pets  these  ladies  kept  to  amuse 
their  leisure  hours. 

Albrecht  Diirer  found  special  pleasure  in  studying  hares.     One 

hardly  knows  which  is 
quainter,  the  thirteen-year- 
old  artist  as  drawn  by 
himself,  or  the  hare 
which  his  childish  fingers 
sketched.  A  later  study 
is  the  charming  Bunny, 
apparently  pausing  after 
a  pleasant  nibble  to  look 
at  his  artist  vis-a-vis.  In 
some  of  his  pictures, 
Diirer  painted  angel  chil- 
dren playing  with  little 
hares  —  surely  a  gentle 
companionship ! 


But 


greater 


a     still 
name    in    art    is    that    of 

Raphael,  to  whom  we  owe  not  only  Madonnas  and  saints,  but  some 
wonderfully  delicate  and  realistic  designs  of  animals  and  birds.  Not 
much  is  said  in  his  biographies  to  show  that  he  was  fond  of  animals, 
but  that  he  studied  them  closely  is  evident.  It  is  infinitely  sad  to 
pass  now  through  his  Loggia  at  the  Vatican,  once  glowing  with  the 
master's  touch,  now  faded  and  in  part  defaced.  Still,  worn  as  they 
are,  they  express  Raphael.  In  the  Stanze,  and  his  other  great  paint- 
ings, we  know  that  his  brush  worked  seriously  in  accordance  with 


TWO    VENETIAN    LADIES    AND    THEIR    PETS. 
(From  the  painting  by  Vittore  Car^accw,  in  the  Correo  Gallery ',  Venice,) 


PETS    IN    ARTIST    LIFE. 


'45 


a  plan  already  conceived.  But  in  the  Loggia,  with  the  bright 
Italian  sun  shining  in  upon  him  as  he  worked,  he  laid  aside  all 
serious  intent,  and  gave  himself  up  to  merry  play.  Under  his 
facile  fino-ers,  the  arched  ceilings  became  covered  with  vines  in 
luxuriant  tangled  growth,  with  interspaces  of  blue^ky,  and  clusters 
of  grapes  which  droop 
apparently  with  their 
own  luscious  weight,  and 
tempt  the  birds  on  every 
side. 

In  one  compartment, 
the  vines  cluster  so  close 
as  to  admit  but  small 
glimpses  of  the  sky.  On 
the  lowest  bar  but  one 
of  the  trellis,  sits  a  fine 
fierce  hawk,  so  absorbed 
in  his  own  reflections 
that  he  does  not  notice 
a  monkey  reaching  up 
from  below  to  pull  his 
tail  feathers.  A  parrot 
on  the  bar  above  is  less 
indifferent,  and  looks  on 
with  mischievous  amuse- 
ment. Little  birds  flit 
about  in  the 


higher 


SECTION   UK    DOME. 
(From  Raphael 's  frescoes  in  tlie  Loggia  of  the  I'aticati.'} 


branches,  and  a  squirrel  is  making  his  way  to  one  of  the  finest 
grape-clusters. 

The  number  of  creatures  that  Raphael  carefully  studied  and 


146 


PETS    IN    ARTIST    LIFE. 


depicted,  is  wonderful.  Lizard,  mouse  and  squirrel ;  tiny  snake 
and  bee  and  snail  ;  goldfish  swimming  in  glass  vases  half-wreathed 
with  swaying  water  plants;  love-birds  cuddling  together;  long-tailed 

rats  scampering  along  the 
scroll-work ;  pretty  vora- 
cious clucks  with  bulging 
crops ;  a  motherly  hen 
hovering  her  chicks  —  all 
these  and  more,  may  still 
be  seen,  the  work  of  one 
masterly  hand.  Really, 
the  painted  scenes  appear 
alive ;  and  I  do  not  know 
who  can  look  at  them 
without  loving  the  artist 
who  so  well  understood 
the  happy  natural  life  of 
plant  and  bird  and  beast. 

As  Paolo  U  c  c  e  1 1  o 
loved  birds,  so  Gottfried 
Mind  loved  cats  and  be- 
came their  special  artist. 
He  was  born  near  the  mid- 
dle of  the  last  century,  in 
the  town  of  Berne.  There 
he  lived,  and  there,  in 
1814,  he  died.  Of  poor  and  mean  appearance,  crabbed  to  all  human 
kind,  he  was  keenly  alive  to  the  ways  and  feelings,  the  tricks  and 
graces  of  cat-kind.  Bears,  too,  he  liked,  and  for  a  while  frequented 
the  bear  pit  of  Berne  to  study  them.  But  cats  were  his  first  and 


DUCKS. 

{From  Raphael's  frescoes  in  the  Loggia  of  the 


PETS    IN    ARTIST    LIFE. 


147 


abiding  love,  and  to  them  he  returned.     Whatever  their 

whether  sulky,  grave  or  gay  ;  in  repose  or  in  action,  at  every 

he    reproduced    them 

upon  paper;    and  with 

such  marvelous  fidelity 

that  he  seems  to  have 

given    Pussy    a    tenth 

and  immortal  life.     His 

favorite  cat  used  to  sit 

for  hours  together  upon 


moods, 


age  — 


HENS   AND   CHICKENS. 
(From  Raphael' s  frescoes  in  the  Loggia  of  the  Vatican.') 

his  knee  or  shoulder,  while  he  —  if  such 
were  her  pleasure  —  would  remain  mo- 
tionless, so  as  not  to  disturb  her  rest. 

In  our  own  time,  two  artists,  more 
than  all  others,  have  been  famous  for 
their  delineation  of  animal  life;  and 
both  of  these  artists,  one  is  glad  to  know, 

(Fr,mRa^™f^' in  a.  Loggia    wcre    genuinely    fond    of    the    creatures 

they  painted.     These  two  are,  of  course, 
Sir  Edwin  Landseer  and   Mile.   Rosa   Bonheur. 

Landseer  studied   every   animal   he   saw,   but   preferred   dogs, 


148 


PETS     IN    ARTIST    LIFE. 


horses,  and  deer,  especially  dogs.  Fuseli,  his  master,  used  to  speak 
of  him  as  "  my  little  dog-boy."  Pet  after  pet  had  its  features  trans- 
ferred to  canvas,  and  fine  dogs  were  brought  to  him  to  be  painted, 
exactly  as  their  owners  might  go  to  Millais  or  Watts.  They  be- 
came in  his  hands  something  more  than  canine  types ;  he  saw  in 

them  individuals  with  characters 

and  stories  of  their  own.  There 
is  the  Dog  in  High  Life,  and  the 
Dog  in  Low  Life ;  the  tranquil 
big  dog  as  Dignity,  the  impetu- 
ous little  dog  as  Impudence. 
Here  a  fine  hound  waits  for  the 
Countess  (this  dog,  by  the  way, 
belonged  to  Lady  Blessington, 
and  was  given  to  her  by  the  at 
that  time  King  of  Naples) ;  here, 
by  a  plain  coffin,  a  collie  waits 
for  the  master  who  will  never  re- 
turn ;  and  here  two  tiny  silken 
spaniels  guard  a  plumed  hat 
and  pair  of  gloves.  These  span- 
iels, which  belonged  to  Robert 
Vernon,  had  an  equally  tragic 
fate  —  the  Blenheim  being  killed 
by  a  fall  from  a  table,  and  the  King  Charles  by  a  fall  through 
the  staircase  rails.  Their  picture  is  now  in  the  National  Gallery 
of  London,  where  many  a  one  lingers  before  it,  admiring  the  great 
lustrous  eyes,  silken  coats,  and  delicate,  whimsical  physiognomies 
of  "  The  Cavalier's  Pets." 

Very  near  them  hangs  a  painting  called  "  The  Sleeping  Blood- 


TVVO   OF   GOTTFRIED   MINDS   CATS. 
(Plate  1 1.  from  "  Der  Katzen-Raphael.} 


<   I 

H 

™    5 


PETS     IN    ARTIST    LIFE. 


THE    DUSTMAN  ii    DOG. 
(Drawn  by  Landseer  when  a  child. } 


hound."  The  beautiful  animal  rests  so  easily  that  few  would 
imagine  her  repose  to  be  the  sleep  of  death  — yet  so  it  is.  Count- 
j—  — ,  ess,  as  they  named  her, 

belonged  to  an  old  friend 
of  Lanclseer,  and  running 

O 

too  eagerly  one  night  to 
meet  him,  fell  from  a 
height  and  was  killed. 
The  next  day  he  carried 
her  to  the  studio;  and 
the  fine  picture,  now  so 
familiar  to  all,  commemo- 
rates both  her  own  beauty  and  her  master's  love. 

Brutus,  Vixen  and  Boxer  —  all  pets  of  the  artist  —  appear  in 
"  The  Ratcatchers;"  Paul 
Pry,  another  intimate,  fig- 
ures as  "  A  Member  of 
the  Humane  Society." 
As  thoroughly  appreci- 
ative of  dog  character  in 
the  extremes  of  poverty 
and  ease,  are  two  other 
pictures  called  "The 
Dustman's  Dos:,"  and 

O 

"  The  Critics."     One  is  a 

mere  sketch  (drawn  when  COUNTESS,  THE  SLEEPING  BLOODHOUND. 

f  (After  Landseer's  painting.) 

Sir    Edwin    was    as    yet 

the  child  Eddie)  of  a  faithful,  homely,  hard-worked  cur;  the  other  is 
a  portrait  of  himself  at  work,  with  a  noble  canine  friend  at  each 
shoulder,  inspecting  the  result  of  his  toil. 


I.S2 


PETS    IN    ARTIST    LIFE. 


He  had  a  liking  —  as  what  painter  of  animals  has  not?  —  for 
lions;  and  those  in  Trafalgar  Square  which  guard  the  Nelson 
Monument,  prove  how  well  he  understood  them. 

"They  are  not  bumptious,"  he  said,  "nor  do  they  swagger; 
but  look  (I  hope)  as  though  they  might  be  trusted  .  .  .  and  are 

all  gentleness  and  tran- 
quillity till  Nelson  gives 
the  word." 

There  is  no  doubt  that 
Landseer's  memory  will 
live.  As  man  and  artist 
his  claims  are  great.  He 
deserves  to  be  counted 
among  the  world's  bene- 
factors for  the  impulse  his 
work  has  given  to  the 
right  appreciation  and 
treatment  of  the  dog.  If 
as  great  and  widely  known 
an  artist  had  patronized 
Pussy,  we  should  find  her 
better  treated  to-day,  and 
certainly  better  under- 
stood. Mind  painted  her 
with  wonderful  fidelity,  but  he  lacked  the  dramatic  instinct  of 
Landseer.  Pussy  was  Pussy  to  him  —  he  never  imagined  in  other 
situations  than  those  he  saw.  It  was  not  in  him  to  create  a  feline 
Diogenes  and  Alexander. 

Sir  Edwin  has  passed  from  us,  but  Rosa  Bonheur  still  lives,  and 
still  occupies  her  serene  life  with  the  art  she  loves.  There  is  a 


THE   CRITICS. 

(Landseer 's  portrait  of  kimse!/) 


PETS    IN    ARTIST    LIFE. 


153 


well-known  and  charming  picture  of  her  earlier  self,  with  the  dark 
hair  tossed  back  from  a  bright,  courageous  face,  and  one  arm  rest- 
in°"  in  calm  assurance  of  mutual  good-will  on  the  neck  of  a  shaggy 
steer.  This  indicates  a  preference  both  personal  and  artistic.  She 
has  always  delighted  in  painting  cattle ;  and  the  patient  oxen  of 
the  Nivernais,  no  less  than  the  picturesque,  long-haired  cattle  of  the 


PAUL   PRY,   A    MEMBER   OF  THE   HUMANE   SOCIETY. 
(After  Landseer's  painting.) 


Scotch  Highlands,  attest  her  loving  study  of  their  ways.  Deer, 
too,  she  enjoys  painting,  and  horses ;  while  Wasp,  the  terrier,  will 
hold  his  own  even  beside  Landseer's  canine  portraits. 

Mile.  Bonheur's  home  at  Fontainebleau  is  fairly  alive  with  pets; 
sheep,  horses,  goats  and  dogs  ;  creatures  with  pedigree  and  with- 


154 


PETS    IN    ARTIST    LIFE. 


out  it ;  creatures  famous  for  their  beauty  or  remarkable  for  their 
rarity.  Not  only  does  she  entertain  peaceable,  home-loving  ani- 
mals, but  also  such  fierce  inmates  as  lions  and  tigers.  From  one 
of  the  former  was  painted  her  magnificent  "  Old  Monarch,"  which 
fronts  squarely  the  spectator  like  one  "  every  inch  a  king."  Her 
"  Tiger  "  is  the  faithful  likeness  of  a  pet  brought  to  her  as  a  cub 
from  the  jungles  of  Bengal.  Nero  was  his  well-bestowed  name- 
a  name  appropriate  to  the  latent  power  and  ferocity  which  might 
become  terribly  apparent  should  he  ever  have  the  chance  or  wish 
to  exert  them.  But  this  has  never  happened.  Temptations  to 
naughtiness  are  carefully  removed  from  his  path,  his  will  is  rarely 
crossed,  his  tastes  are  consulted.  Roomily  lodged,  amply  fed,  he 
is  probably  the  most  civilized  tiger  in  existence. 

Mile.  Bonheur  is  convinced  of  his  affection,  but  it  is  doubtless 
as  fortunate  for  the  world  as  for  herself  that  she  never  entered  his 
cage.  This  superb  favorite  cost  about  three  thousand  dollars,  and 
as  His  Majesty's  meat  diet  is  also  very  expensive,  he  may  be 
accounted  in  more  ways  than  one  a  dear  pet. 

Several  wild  horses  were  at  one  time  added  to  the  studio  "  prop- 
erties"; and  lately  a  Russian  nobleman  presented  Mile.  Bonheur 
with  a  couple  of  magnificent  Russian  bears,  to  which  she  is  said 
to  be  much  attached. 

Paris  is  a  city  dear  to  artists,  and  almost  every  nationality  is 
represented  in  its  salons.  Henry  Bacon,  for  instance,  is  American; 
and  among  the  paintings  and  sketches  that  fill  his  studio,  are  many 
reminiscences  of  his  far-off  home.  In  no  way,  moreover,  is  he  so 
genuinely  American  as  in  his  devotion  to  pets.  It  is  a  pity  that  in 
many  cases  their  beautiful  portraits  are  all  of  themselves  that  re- 
main to  him.  Most  notable  among  them,  and  perhaps  also  best- 
beloved,  was  Glen,  a  black-and-tan  collie  from  Aberdeenshire,  born 


J 


AN   OLD   MONARCH. 

(After  the  fainting  by  Rosa  Bonhenr  } 


PETS     IN    ARTIST    LIFE. 


157 


in    1879,  whose  parents,  Jock  and   Miss,  had  both  obtained  prize 

medals. 

Miss  made  a  rather  careless  mother  —  often  allowing  her  puppies 

to  wander  out  of  sight; 
but  this  was  pure  absent- 
mindedness  —  for  when  in 
their  rovings  beyond  the 
kennel  they  came  to  grief, 
she  appeared  conscious  of 
her  maternal  short-com- 
ings, and  employed  all  her 
intelligence  to  serve  her 
little  ones. 

The  farmer  who  had 
charge  of  the  kennels, 
stepped  out  of  his  cot- 
tage one  morning  into 
the  first  snow  of  the  sea- 
son, to  be  met  by  Miss 
in  a  state  of  terrible  ex- 
citement. She  jumped 
upon  him,  pulled  at  his 
coat,  and  neither  caress  nor 
threat  could  quiet  her. 

At  last,  having  thoroughly  attracted  his  attention,  she  made  a  dash 
down  the  avenue,  looking  back  over  her  shoulder  as  she  ran.  The 
farmer,  being  versed  in  "  canese,"  understood  that  he  was  expected 
to  follow  —  and  followed  ! 

Without  diverging  to  right  or  left,  or  running  in  curves,  as  is 
the  habit  of  shepherd  dogs,  Miss  preceded  him  through  the  fresh- 


WASP.    ROSA    BONHEl'R's   PET  TERRIER. 
(After  Rosa  Bonheur's  painting  ) 


153 


PETS    IN    ARTIST    LIFE. 


fallen  snow  down  the  avenue  and  across  a  field,  stopped  at  the 
edge  of  a  large  post-hole,  and  after  looking  down  rushed  back  to 
hurry  up  the  help  she  was  bringing.  Her  favorite  pup.  Glen,  had 
gone  out  on  an  early  morning  voyage  of  discovery,  had  fallen  into 
this  hole,  and  would  have  perished  there  but  for  this  timely  aid. 

Nor  does  the  story  end  here.  After  Glen  was  pulled  out,  and 
on  his  way  home  under  the  farmer's  great-coat  —  for  he  was  only 
a  little  thing,  not  yet  a  month  old — Miss  staid  behind,  and  with 


THK    1IOKSK    FAIR. 
(After  the  painting  by  Rosa  Bonheur.} 


much  scratching  and  barking  filled  in  the  hole,  being  of  opinion, 
probably,  that  post-holes,  like  barn  doors,  should  be  closed  after  an 
accident  has  happened. 

A  few  months  later  Glen  went  to  live  in  Tunbridge  Wells, 
England,  with  his  brother  Jock,  and  if  they  had  not  quarreled, 
would  still  be,  in  all  likelihood,  a  British  subject  ;  but  owing  to 
their  many  disputes,  Glen  was  sent  abroad.  The  next  summer, 
and  indeed  each  summer  of  his  life,  has  been  passed  on  the  Nor- 


PETS    IN    ARTIST    LIFE. 


159 


mandy  coast  at  Etretat.  From  what  he  knows  of  Glen's  character, 
Mr.  Bacon  does  not  think  him  entirely  to  blame  in  these  family 
quarrels.  Besides,  his  brother  Jock's  short  life  was  not  exemplar}', 


THE    LION    AT    HOME. 
(.After  the  painting  by  Rosa  Bonlieur.) 


for  it  was  reported  that  he  bit  a  child  ;    and  although  the  child 
recovered  from  the  bite,  "  it  was  the  dog  that  died." 

Glen,  being  a  shepherd  dog,  is  delighted  when  he  encounters 
upon  the  downs  a  flock  of  sheep,  and  if  not  called  off,  will  instantly 
herd  them  into  a  compact,  frightened  mass,  much  to  the  distress 
of  their  guardian  and  his  dog.  When  he  cannot  find  sheep,  he 
will  amuse  himself  by  gathering  together  the  hens  and  chickens 
he  finds  in  an  orchard ;  and  once,  in  default  of  these,  while  his 
master  was  sketching  on  the  sands  of  Mont-Saint-Michel,  he 
herded  the  fishermen's  children  who  were  playing  at  low  tide 


i6o 


PETS    IN    ARTIST    LIFE. 


beyond  the  town.  Unheeded  by  his  master,  he  had  made  a  wide 
circle  round  the  children,  frightening  them  together  like  a  flock  of 
sheep;  and  when  discovered,  he  was  capering  round  the  group  as 
though  the  task  had  been  set  him  of  keeping  them  together. 

Glen  is  well  remembered  at  Mont-Saint-Michel,  for  besides  this 
performance,  and  besides  leaping  from  the  battlements  when  in 
his  hurry  he  could  not  find  the  stairway  —  he  showed  what  seems 
to  be  his  only  ambition  —  that  of  whipping  a  dog  of  twice  his  own 
size.  After  several  days'  premeditation,  he  attacked  a  big  fellow 
brought  from  Newfoundland  by  one  of  the  fishermen,  and  —  as 


GLEN    AND   HIS    MASTER   AT    ETRETAT. 


usual  —  was  unsuccessful,  although  he  evidently  thought  he  might 
have  succeeded  if  he  had  not  been  pulled  off. 

Glen  is  as  fond  of  the  water  as  any  spaniel,  and  will  bathe  in 
the  breakers,  leaping  clear  of  the  surf  on   the  crest  of  the  waves, 


PETS    IN    ARTIST    LIFE. 


161 


Gu-v 


and  has  been  very  useful  in  shipwrecks  of  toy  boats  —  rescuing 
and  bringing  them  safe  to  land  to  the  great  joy  of  their  youthful 

owners. 

Every  evening  before  he  and  his  master  retire  for  the   night, 

they  take  a  walk.  It 
often  happens  that  his 
master  has  a  friend  spend- 
ino-  the  evening  with  him, 

o  *~> 

who,  in  Glen's  opinion, 
stays  later  than  he  should 
stay.  In  this  case,  when 
the  clock  has  struck  the 
half-hour  after  ten,  Glen 
becomes  uneasy,  rises  from 

his  rug  before  the  fire,  stretches  himself,  looks  around,  and,  creeping 
up  to  the  visitor,  gives  him  a  gentle  poke  under  the  elbow.  Of 
course  he  is  ordered  to  lie  down  by  his  master;  but  if  the  visitor  is 
not  acquainted  with  the  ways  of  the  household,  he  is  charmed  with 
the  clog's  attention,  gives  him  a  friendly  pat,  and  declares  that  Glen 
does  not  bother  him.  Shortly  afterwards,  the  guest  is  surprised  to 
find  the  clog  again  beside  him,  sitting  up  on  his  haunches,  and 
gently  scratching  his  sleeve  with  his  paw;  and  he  does  not  discon- 
tinue his  impolite  hints  so  long  as  the  visitor  stays.  If  the  visitor  is 
an  habitue i  when  Glen  begins  his  caresses  he  looks  at  his  watch, 
and  in  spite  of  his  host's  apologies,  promises  Glen  that  he  will  go 
in  a  few  minutes.  Often,  when  alone,  the  master  will  be  occupied 
in  the  evening  with  book  or  pen  until,  feeling  a  gentle  nudge  at 
his  elbow,  he  looks  up  to  find  the  large  brown  eyes  of  his  dog  fixed 
upon  him.  This  is  a  friendly  hint  as  to  the  hour,  and  one  which 
certainly  prevents  unduly  late  hours  for  both  master  and  dog. 


l62 


PETS    IN    ARTJST    LIFE. 


A  well-known  artist  in  New  York,  Mr.  F.  S.  Church,  makes 
frequent  and  delightful  studies  of  animals  and  birds — although 
not  so  much  for  their  own  sake,  perhaps,  as  for  that  of  some 
thought  to  which  they  are  the  fit  accessories.  Now  it  is  a  maiden 
wandering  in  desert  places,  alone,  save  for  the  savage  beasts  her 
innocence  has  tamed.  Now  it  is  an  Alpine  shrine  where  rain  and 

snow  have  beaten  against 
the  patient  Christ  upon 
the  cross.  But  still  the 
pent-roof  of  the  shrine 
affords  some  shelter ; 
and  beneath  it,  along 
the  outstretched  arms, 
or  nestling  close  to  the 
thorn-crowned  head,  is  a 
flock  of  birds.  The 
storm-beaten  little  wan- 
derers have  found  refuge 
where  many  a  one  has 
come  before  —  with  the 
Christ,  at  the  cross. 

Here  a  group  of  feath- 
ered  mourners  singing  a 

O         O 

dirge  for  the  last  rose  of 
summer;  there  a  witch's 
daughter  in  mystic  con- 
verse with  an  owl. 

Decidedly  more  realistic  is  the  sketch  called  "  At  Rest,"  of  a 
monkey  extended  in  that  hopeless  rigidity  which  can  never  be  mis- 
taken for  life.  There  is  something  curiously  touching  in  the 


MR.    CHASE   AND   KAT-TE. 


PETS    IN    ARTIST    LIFE. 


163 


stiffened  form  —  a  look  of  almost  human  protest  against  fate  - 
as  though  death  had  arrested  him  at  the  very  moment  when  he  was 
about  to  become  a  man. 

Another  sketch  represents  a  stray  cat  which  thrust  its  head 
into  the  studio  one  day,  and  stared  for  a  moment  at  its  occupant, 
with  great,  astonished,  yellow  eyes.  From  mingled  motives  of 
humanity  and  art  he  tried  to  detain  her,  but  in  vain.  As  silently 
as  she  had  come  she  vanished,  although  — like  the  grin  of  the  cat 
in  Wonderland — her  stare  remained  after  her  head  had  dis- 
appeared, thus  enabling  the  artist  to  transfer  it  to  paper. 

It  will  be  guessed  from  all  these  possible  pets  that  Mr.  Church 
had  no  actual  ones.    Such     _ 
is    the    case,  and  a   great 
pity  it  is  that  this  petless 
master  and   a  few  master- 
less    pets    cannot     meet ! 
His      loss,      however,     is 
somewhat  balanced  by  the 


gain 


neighboring 


in     a 

studio,  which  belongs  to  Mr.  William  M.  Chase.  It  is  rich  in 
artistic  bric-a-brac  and  paintings,  but  the  special  decoration  when  I 
saw  it,  was  a  Russian  deer-hound  named  Kat-te.  The  magnificent, 
snow-white  fellow  lay  upon  a  Turkish  rug,  whose  rich  tints  set  off 
to  perfection  his  own  Northern  fairness.  He  rose,  at  his  master's 
request,  to  shake  hands  and  exhibit  his  beautiful  form  in  its 
height  and  length.  He  even  condescended  to  la'y  upon  my  palm 
for  a  moment  his  clean-cut,  delicate  muzzle,  but  soon  wearied  of 
exhibition,  and  went  back  to  his  do  Ice  far  niente  on  the  rug. 

Kat-te  was  found  by  Mr.  Chase  in   Harlaem,  and,  at  that  time, 
spoke  Dutch,  as  a  dog  may.     It  required  some  time  to  teach  him 


PETS    IN    ARTIST    LIFE. 


English;  nevertheless,  he  now  understands  that  language  also. 
And  yet  more,  when  he  met  a  party  of  Russians  on  the  street  one 
day,  and  was  addressed  by  them  in  their  own  language,  he  showed 
the  greatest  delight  and  emotion.  He  tried  to  follow  them  home, 
he  was  restless,  he  was  excited,  and  thus  evinced  in  canine  fashion, 
not  only  his  philological  attainments,  but  also  his  faithful  Russian 
heart.  Some  idea  of  his  noble  proportions  may  be  gained  from 
the  accompanying  picture. 

The  caricaturist  Cham  had  a  dog  called  Azor,  as  well-known 
as  himself;  and  Du  Maurier's  Chang,  a  very  beautiful,  sagacious 
dog,  figured,  while  living,  in  many  of  his  master's  sketches,  and  by 
his  death  grieved  all  who  knew  him. 

George  Cruikshank's  Lilla  was  a  docile,  affectionate  little 
creature,  and,  like  most  studio  pets,  figures  occasionally  in  his 
master's  work.  The  drawing  given  here  is  from  the  original  in 
Madame  Tussand's  exhibition.  It  is  well  stuffed  and  mounted, 
and  purports  to  be  the  veritable  Lilla  ;  but  although  its  history 
was  inquired  into  both  by  the  artist  who  sketched  it,  and  myself, 
we  failed  to  get  even  the  smallest  crumb  of  information.  Its 
identity,  therefore,  must  be  left  an  open  question. 

Dante  Rossetti  had  a  collection  of  pets  which,  in  its  whimsical 
variety,  can  only  be  likened  to  that  of  the  naturalist  Buckland. 
Armadillos  and  wombats  were  included,  but  decidedly  the  most 
notable  was  the  zebu.  One  of  the  artist's  biographers  gives  an 
amusing  account  of  the  creature.  It  was  an  intractable  subject  for 
petting,  and  put  an  end  to  all  attempts  in  that  direction  by  one 
day  tearing  up  by  the  roots  the  little  tree  to  which  it  was  tethered, 
and  chasing  its  owner  all  round  the  garden.  After  this  exploit,  it 
was  given  away;  Mr.  Knight  says  that  Rossetti,  when  discussing 
his  pets,  past  and  present,  was  not  much  given  to  talk  of  the  zebu. 


LADY   TANKERVILLE,    WHO    HID   HER   KITTENS    IN   THE   HEAD  OF   STORY'S 
STATUE    OF    PEABODY. 


PETS     IN    ARTIST    LIFE. 


Roman  studios  are  as  well  supplied  with  live  "  properties  "  as 
American  or  English  ones.  Will  the  visitor  who  has  once  seen  it 
ever  forget  that  charming  staircase,  vine-wreathed,  flowery  and 
musical,  which,  although  in  the  busy  Piazza  di  Termini,  still  keeps 
an  air  of  forest  seclusion?  It  is  the  passage  te  a  studio  equally 
retired,  fashioned  like  a  nest  in  the  ruined  baths  of  Diocletian. 
Paintings,  bits  of  tapestry,  etc.,  form  a  background  for  various 
marble  inmates,  whose  serenity  is  interfered  with  neither  by  cat 
nor  dog.  It  is  the  staircase,  covered  with  wire  netting,  that  holds 
the  favorites.  Pigeons  inhabit  the  upper  part,  and  keep  up  a  con- 
tinual flutter  at  the  latticed  window,  their  wings  gleaming  silver  in 
the  sunshine.  Lower  down  are  musical  blackbirds;  I  remember 
especially  among  the  latter  one  beautiful  fellow,  who  shrank  back, 
mute,  at  the  approach  of  our  party,  but  answered  his  master's  call 
at  once,  and  perched,  lightly  as  thistledown,  upon  his  arm. 

This  master,  the  sculptor  Ezekiel,  like  most  bird-lovers,  does  not 
allow  cats  in  his  home.  He  might  possibly  train  Pussy  into  toler- 
ance, and  so  have  a  happy  family  —  only  —  he  does  not  like  cats  ! 
which,  to  a  cat  lover,  seems  queer.  However,  even  if  unconsciously, 
he  must  have  some  secret  understanding  of  their  nature  ;  for  in 
his  studio  is  a  marble  Judith  with  arm  raised  to  strike,  who,  in  her 
magnificent  fierceness,  recalls,  far  from  ignobly,  the  feline  race. 

Elihu  Vedder's  pets  might  be  expected  to  wear  a  rather  tragic 
and  noble  air,  appropriate  to  the  illustrations  of  the  Rubaiyat  ;  but 
on  the  contrary,  they  have  a  commonplace  appearance  of  well- 
being.  The  studio  pet  one  year  was  an  asthmatic  small  dog,  who 
had  thrown  himself  upon  the  artist's  compassion  —  a  grateful,  sub- 
dued, unassuming  object,  which,  after  each  spasm  of  coughing, 
would  look  around  with  a  deprecatory  expression,  as  if  to  apologize 
for  the  disturbance.  Some  intelligent  cats,  and  another  small  dog, 


1 68 


PETS    IN    ARTIST    LIFE. 


in  this  instance  possessed  of  vivacious  health  and  spirits,  keep  the 
artist's  home  lively,  and  compete  with  one  another  for  his  favor. 
A  third  studio  in  Rome  is   that  of  the  sculptor  Story.     Many 

famous  statues  have  here 
been  "  born  in  clay  and 
resurrected  in  marble  "  — 
a  m  o  n  g  them  that  of 
George  Peabodv.  The 

o  j 

marble  is  now  in  London, 
but  a  colossal  plaster-cast 
remains  in  the  studio. 

The  philanthropist  is 
seated  —  a  position  which 
allows  various  projections, 


or  ledges,  within  the  hol- 
low cast  —  of  which  a 
high-minded  cat  once 
took  advantage. 

Before  reading  fur- 
ther, look  at  her  pict- 
ure. Is  she  not  very 

much  like  some  dainty  young  lady  in  ball-dress?  See  how  deftly 
she  has  disposed  her  train,  how  fastidiously  she  glances  over  her 
shoulder  !  A  cat  of  distinction  —  that  is  evident  at  the  first  o-]ance  ! 
She  came  originally  from  Walton-on- Thames,  in  England,  was  a 
present  to  Mrs.  Story,  and,  in  memory  of  the  donor,  named  Lady 
Tankerville.  Having  an  artistic  bias,  she  chose  the  studio  in 
preference  to  boudoir  life,  and  was  oftenest  to  be  found  there. 

After  a  while  she  was  known  to  be  the  proud  mother  of  kittens, 
but  where  she  kept  them  remained  a  mystery  until  several   weeks 


ENTRANCE   AND   WINDOW    OF  THE    SCULPTOR    EZEKIEL's 
STUDIO    IN    ROME. 


PETS    IN    ARTIST    LIFE. 


169 


later,  when  they  were  found  in  —  of  all  places !  —  the  head  of  George 
Peabody.  It  was  a  delightfully  retired  situation,  and  probably 
there  never  were  happier  kittens.  As  an  instance  of  post-mortem 
philanthropy,  it  is,  I  am  convinced,  unequalled. 

A  fine  pug  called  Bimbo  must  be  added  to  ^he  favorites  that 
have  gone  before.  A  spoiled  but  intelligent  darling,  he  sits  up  for 
his  picture  on  a  velvet  chair,  with  an  air  of  snug  contentment  quite 
irresistible.  His  mistress  holds  him  in  loving  memory;  and,  since 
his  death,  contents  herself  with  a  bisque  "puggery,"  whose  inmates, 
if  liable  to  breakage,  are 
nevertheless  more  easily 
replaced. 

One  other  pet  must 
close  this  chapter —  a  pet 
already  old,  but  likely  to 
live  many  more  years 
without  appearing  per- 
ceptibly older.  It  is  a 
tortoise,  Babbo  by  name, 
which  belonged  to  the 
sculptor  Hiram  Powers. 
I  had  the  honor  of  fre- 
quent interviews  with 
Babbo  some  summers 
past  ;  and  Mr.  Long- 
worth  Powers  did  his 
best  to  photograph  him.  A  crumb  of  moistened  biscuit  was 
placed  on  the  broad  stone  step  and  Babbo  beside  it.  No  use 
at  all ;  he  either  got  into  a  bad  position  or  shuffled  out  of  focus. 
Juicy  cabbage  leaves  were  brought,  but  although  usually  suscepti- 


IS1MBO,   ONE  OF  THE   SCULPTOR   STORY'S   PETS. 


I70  PETS    IN    ARTIST    LIFE. 

ble  to  their  charm,  he  now  turned  from  them  in  scorn.  He  was 
gently  coaxed,  he  was  thumped  down  hard,  he  was  entreated,  he 
was  scolded—  all  in  vain.  A  good  tortoise  ordinarily,  the  bare 
idea  of  a  photograph  seemed  to  render  him  frantic  ;  and  after  three 
plates  were  spoiled,  we  were  compelled  to  let  him  go. 

"  Mr.  Powers'  Babbo,"  writes  Babbo's  mistress,  "  always  came 
to  the  inner  studio  door  if  hungry  or  thirsty,  and  scratched  at  it  to 
attract  attention.  Then  my  husband  would  take  him  up,  hold  him 
in  the  water  until  he  had  quite  satisfied  his  thirst,  when  the  creat- 
ure would  waddle  off,  perfectly  contented.  If  hungry,  he  would 
give  him  a  bit  of  bread  dipped  in  wine  and  water." 

The  kind  master  has  gone,  but  Babbo  remains,  and  still  has 
shelter,  drink  and  sup  in  the  pleasant  Florentine  garden. 


VII. 

PUSSY    IN    PRIVATE    LIFE. 


VII. 


PUSSY    IN   PRIVATE   LIFE. 

NO  animal  has  known  greater  vicissitudes  than  our  pleasant 
little  house-familiar,  Pussy.  He  had  his  day  of  glory  in  the 
far  past,  when  armies  retreated  before  him ;  his  day  of  divinity, 
too,  as  the  mighty  basalt  cat-headed  goddesses  in  many  a  museum 
still  testify.  And  then,  having  had  in  his  life-time  all  that  heart 
of  cat  could  wish,  after  death  he  became  a  mummy  and  received 
funeral  honors. 

Just  how  it  happened,  no  one  knows,  but  a  few  thousand  years 
later  we  find  Pussy  no  longer  reverenced.  Instead  of  a  divinity 
he  was  regarded  as  the  accomplice  of  witches,  and  burned  in  holo- 
caust on  St.  John's  Day,  or  tormented  for  the  amusement  of  such 
evil  kings  as  Philip  II.  of  Spain.  Later  still,  and  final  stage  of  his 
decadence,  he  was  valued  in  direct  proportion  to  his  usefulness  - 
becoming  now  a  mere  drudge,  and  now  a  joyless  plaything  for 
children.  Could  Egyptian  heart  have  dreamed  it  ? 

But  Pussy's  fortunes  are  again  rising.  He  is  no  longer  a  stale 
divinity,  but  he  is  becoming — what  is  far  better  in  this  age  of 
progress  —  a  social  power!  Even  in  his  worst  estate  he  had 

'73 


174 


PUSSY    TN    PRIVATE     LIFE. 


always  warm  friends  and  admirers ;  now,  he  has  a  party.  For, 
"  you  either  love  cats,  or  you  do  not  love  them,"  says  a  witty 
author ;  and  statistics  go  to  prove  that  those  who  love  cats  are 
the  majority  to-day. 

Pussy  has  also  been  fortunate  in  having  two 
strings  to  his  bow  --personal  beauty  and  utility. 
No  other  creature  so  dainty,  so  artistically  de- 
lightful ;  a  thing  of  beauty,  and  —  to  the  appre- 
ciative —  a  joy  forever ;  no  other  creature  so  dex- 
terous in  pursuit  of  mice,  so  self-supporting,  so 
acute  !  Throughout  the  ages,  therefore,  through 
prosperity  and  adversity,  Pussy,  like  the  Jews, 
has  flourished.  The  honors  of  divinity  did  not 
turn  his  handsome  head,  and  persecution  has 
failed  to  uproot  his  race  from  the  soil. 

What  a  small  bit  of  life  he  is ;  yet  when 
absent,  how  we  miss  him  !  Only  think  of  Wales, 
in  good  King  Howel's  time ;  when  rats  were 
rampagious,  when  a  kitten,  even  before  it  could 
see,  was  worth  a  penny,  and  heavy  fines  were 
imposed  on  whoever  should  hurt  or  kill  a  cat. 
Think  of  Varbach,  that  little  German  town  where 
mice  ran  riot,  until  at  last  a  cat  was  obtained. 
Think  of  Whittington ;  how  with  a  cat  in  his 
arms  he  sailed  to  a  country  where  cats  were 
not,  and  made  his  fortune  —  through  the  cat! 
There  are  skeptics,  of  course,  who  call  this  pretty 
story  a  myth  ;  and  very  possibly,  like  some  other  good  old  stories,  it 
has  put  on  with  time  some  of  the  colors  of  a  fairy  tale  ;  but  that  little 
Dick  had  a  cat,  and  a  valued  one  —  so  much,  at  least,  may  well  be 


r      ^H» 

tr 


CAT-HEADED  EGYP- 
TIAN GODDESS,  BAST 
OR  BUBASTIS. 

(From    a    bronze     in    the 
British  Museum,') 


PUSSY    IN    PRIVATE    LIFE. 


true.  The  queer  bas-relief  at  Guildhall  Museum  in  London  has 
an  appearance  of  verity;  and  as  it  was  found  in  a  house  which 
once  belonged  to  the  Whittington  family,  and  had  been  occupied 
in  the  famous  Lord  Mayor's  life-time  by  his  nephew,  it  not 
improbably  commemorates  some  actual 
fact  in  the  great  man's  history. 

One  of  the  earliest  pet  cats  on  record 
is  that  of  Prince  Hana,  an  Egyptian  nota- 
bility who  lived  several  thousand  years 
ago,  and  between  the  stone  feet  of  whose 
statue  was  placed  the  statuette  of  his  cat, 
Bouhaki.  The  latter  may  still  be  seen  in 
the  Louvre,  sitting  erect  in  a  dignified  at- 
titude, squarely  confronting  posterity,  so 
to  say,  with  a  gold  collar  around  its  neck, 
and  ear-rings  in  its  ears  ! 

Early  in  history,  also,  and  more  famous 
than  Bouhaki  is  Muezza,  the  cat  of  Ma- 
homet. Every  one  knows  how  the  Prophet 
sat  reaping  one  day,  with  the  favorite  curled 
up  in  peaceful  slumber  on  the  wide  sleeve 
of  his  robe ;  and  how,  rather  than  disturb 
her,  when  obliged  to  go,  he  gently  cut  off 
the  sleeve.  No  wonder,  with  such  an  ex- 
ample before  them,  that  Mahommedans  still 
honor  cats. 

From  Mahomet  to  Petrarch  is  quite  a  step  —  not  only  in  point 
of  time,  but  of  character.  Nevertheless,  these  great  men  had  one 
thing  in  common  —  their  affection  for  cats.  Laura  was  not  enough 
for  the  poet ;  he  must  also  have  his  little  white  "  micino,"  holdino- 


BAS-RELIEF  OF  WHITTINUTON 

AND    HIS  CAT. 
(At  the  Guildhall  Museum,  London.") 


1 76  PUSSY    IN    PRIVATE     LIFE. 

it  second  only  to  the  lady  of  his  heart,  and  so  mourning  its  death 
as  to  have  it  embalmed.  This  veritable  cat  may  be  seen  to-day  in 
Petrarch's  house  at  Arqua —  at  least  the  guide  assures  us  it  is  the 
same.  For  my  own  part,  I  have  no  more  doubt  of  its  identity  than 
of  the  blood-spot  in  Holyrood.  I  take  the  one  to  be  Rizzio's 
blood ;  I  take  the  other  to  be  the  immortal  poet's  equally  im- 
mortal cat —  and  thank  my  stars  I  am  not  so  skeptical  as  some 
people ! 

Lovers  of  Petrarch  all  visit  Arqua,  and,  if  literary,  are  very  apt 
to  commemorate  the  visit  with  their  pen.  Such  an  one  was 
Tassoni,  whose  charming  verse  may  be  roughly  rendered  as 
follows: 

"  Now  rises  the  lovely  hill  of  Arqua 
Which  pleases,  seen  from  mountain  or  from  plain, 
Where  lies  he  in  whose  writings 
The  soul  expands  like  a  plant  in  the  sun ; 
And  where  his  embalmed  cat  just  as  when  alive 
Still  guards  the  illustrious  threshold  against  mice. 

"  To  this  cat  Apollo  granted  the  privilege 
Of  remaining  intact  in  spite  of  time, 
And  of  having  its  manifold  honors 
Made  eternal  in  a  thousand  songs;  — 
So  that  the  sepulcher  of  mighty  kings 
Is  surpassed  in  glory  by  an  unburied  cat !  " 

Several  hundred  years  after  Tassoni,  an  American  pilgrim  went 
to  Arqua,  and  added  his  own  pleasant  tribute  to  the  thousand 
songs;  protesting  that  — 

"we  cannot  well  figure  to  ourselves  Petrarch,  sitting  before  that  wide-mouthed  fire-place,  without 
beholding  also  the  gifted  cat  that  purrs  softly  at  his  feet,  and  nestles  on  his  knees  ;  or  with 
thickened  back  and  lifted  tail,  parades  loftily  around  his  chair,  in  the  haughty  and  disdainful 
manner  of  cats." 


PUSSY    IN    PRIVATE     LIFE.  177 

Tasso  also  had  his  pet ;  sad,  hapless  poet  that  he  was,  there 
was  need  of  all  the  comfort  he  could  get.  Doubt  not  but  that 
often  his  tears  fell  warm  on  Pussy's  fur ;  and  that  in  her  compan- 
ionship he  found  solace  when  other  solace  there  was  none.  To 
this  little  friend  he  addressed  a  sonnet,  begging  -her,  since  lamps 
were  denied  in  his  prison,  to  light  him  with  her  eyes. 

Other  famous  Italians  have  shared  the  taste  of  these  poets; 
among  whom,  probably,  may  be  included  Andrea  Dona.  Some 
writers  assure  us  that  he  detested  cats,  and  kept  one  only  to  re- 
mind him  of  the  conquered  Fieschi,  whose  badge  it  was.  Be  this 
as  it  may,  the  animal  who  sits  beside  him  in  the  ancient  portrait 
at  Genoa  has  an  undeniable  air  of  well-being.  If  an  enemy,  it  has 
been  treated  with  respect ;  if  a  friend,  it  is  also  an  equal,  and 
returns  the  old  admiral's  gaze  with  proud  directness. 

St.  Dominic's  hatred  of  cats  is  more  than  offset  by  the  affection 
which  various  popes  have  shown  them.  Gregory  the  Great  had  a 
much-indulged  favorite,  and  Leo  XII.  had  a  number.  One  big 
cat  of  grayish-red  called  Micetto  he  presented  to  another  friend 
of  the  feline  race,  the  famous  Chateaubriand,  as  a  mark  of  his 
esteem. 

Pius  IX.  also  had  his  pet  —  a  superb  " gatto  soriano"  which 
was  always  present  at  his  frugal  meals,  sitting  beside  him,  and 
claiming  its  full  share  both  of  food  and  attention.  A  very  pleas- 
ant sight  it  must  have  been,  to  see  this  benign  old  pontiff  taking 
\^& passegiatH  in  the  gardens  of  the  Vatican,  with  Pussy  sedately 
pacing  at  his  side.  When,  after  a  while,  the  link  of  companionship 
was  broken,  and  Pussy  paced  from  this  world  to  another,  no  pet 
succeeded  him.  "  I  am  too  old  for  new  friendships,"  said  his 
master;  "moreover,  death  may  come  to  me  next,  for  my  cat  and  I 
have  both  crown  old  in  the  Vatican." 


1 78  PUSSY    IA~    PRIVATE    LIFE. 

A  still  more  ardent  cat-lover  in  Italy  was  the  aged  Archbishop 
of  Taranto,  who  died  about  the  beginning  of  this  century.  His 
pets  had  their  regular  meals  corresponding  with  his  own  ;  and  a 
guest  was  once  much  amused  by  hearing  him  ask  a  servant  during 
dinner  whether  the  cats  had  been  served.  "  Yes,  monsignore,"  the 
man  gravely  answered,  "  but  Desdemona  prefers  waiting  for  the 
roasts."  Desdemona  was  a  white  Persian,  both  in  color  and 
disposition  a  complete  contrast  to  her  huge  black  mate,  Othello. 

When  the  archbishop  was  eighty-six  years  old,  a  friend  called 
upon  him  rather  earlier  than  usual  one  morning,  and  was  rewarded 
by  this  pretty  scene  :  the  venerable,  white-haired  old  man  in  dress- 
ing gown  and  slippers,  seated  at  the  breakfast-table,  with  two  great 
tortoise-shell  cats  on  chairs  beside  him,  alertly  watching  his  hand 
for  bits  of  bread,  and  purring  in  the  most  affectionate  manner 
between  mouthfuls. 

Cardinal  Richelieu  was  devoted  to  kittens,  rather  than  cats, 
finding  in  their  companionship  the  relaxation  he  needed  after  toil. 
They  lived  in  his  room,  in  handsomely  lined  and  cushioned  baskets, 
so  that  he  might  see  them  whenever  he  chose.  But  no  sooner 
were  they  three  months  old,  than  he  had  them  removed  and  a  new 
supply  brought  in.  One  white  Angora  passed  the  fatal  period  and 
retained  her  place  as  favorite-in-chief  so  long  as  she  lived.  Her 
usual  lounging-place  was  His  Eminence's  table,  among  his  books 
and  papers.  In  the  picture  painted  by  Champaigne,  there  are 
three  different  views  of  the  famous  cardinal,  .and  one  can  easily 
fancy  the  delicate,  sarcastic  countenance  bent  towards  his  pets, 
and  occasionally  relaxing  into  a  smile  at  some  extra  kittenish 
gambol. 

Our  English  Cardinal  Wolsey  also  had  a  fondness  for  cats,  and 
more  than  once  was  found  by  some  great  dignitary  amusing  him- 


1 1 

II 

Otf      2( 

II 


PUSSY    IN    PRIVATE    LIFE.  181 

self  with  a  kitten.  One  favorite  was  sometimes  seen  with  him  in 
the  Council  Chamber;  and  it  may  well  have  entered  into  the  final 
sum  of  his  offenses  that  he  preferred  the  society  of  intelligent  cats 
to  that  of  empty-headed  bigwigs  ! 

In  the  last  century  there  was  a  Mile.  Dupuy  living  in  France, 
of  whom  few  people  now  know  anything;  but  who,  nevertheless, 
in  her  own  clay  had  a  reputation  as  an  exquisite  performer  on  the 
harp.  Furthermore,  she  possessed  a  cat  who  had  also  some  claim 
to  be  called  an  authority  in  harpistry.  Before  a  performance  in 
public,  Mile.  Dupuy  would  rehearse  privately  before  him.  He  al- 
ways listened  with  critical  attention,  and  if  any  notes  displeased, 
would  growl.  Such  notes  she  always  amended,  trying  them  over 
until  he  ceased  growling.  The  lady  never  married,  and  when  in 
course  of  time  she  died,  her  will  was  found  to  provide,  among 
other  bequests,  for  the  maintenance  of  this  little  friend  and  critic. 
Sad  to  relate,  however,  the  will  was  set  aside  by  grasping  relatives, 
and  Pussy's  fate  is  unknown. 

Fourier  had  a  magnificent  cat  —  a  great  pet  —  in  his  house  at 
Lyons ;  and  it  is  recorded  of  this  rather  grim  philosopher,  that  he 
could  never  see  a  pretty  cat  or  kitten  on  the  street  without 
stopping  to  caress  it. 

Lord  Eldon,  the  jurist,  had  a  room  full  of  cats,  and  once  when, 
owing  to  some  bone  of  contention,  they  grew  extremely  noisy, 
went  into  the  room  and  solemnly  read  the  Riot  Act  —  with  what 
effect  we  are  not  told. 

Lord  Chesterfield  gave  all  his  cats  —  and  they  were  many — a 
life  pension,  that  they  might  not  suffer,  after  his  death,  from  some 
other  master's  indifference.  More  fortunate  than  Mile.  Dupuy, 
his  will  was  carried  out. 

A    very   famous  cat,  indeed,    is  the  one  that  befriended   Sir 


!82  PUSSY    IN    PRIVATE    LIFE. 

Henry  Wyatt  in  his  hour  of  need.  According  to  the  epitaph  on 
his  monument,  this  gentleman  "  was  imprisoned  and  tortured  in 
the  Tower,  in  the  reign  of  Richard  III.,"  where  he  "  was  fed  and 
preserved  by  a  cat."  In  manuscript  family  papers  the  story  is 
more  fully  told,  as  follows : 

"  He  was  imprisoned  often  ;  once  in  a  cold  and  narrow  tower 
where  he  had  neither  bed  to  lie  on,  nor  clothes  sufficient  to  warm 
him,  nor  meat  for  his  mouth.  He  had  starved  there,  had  not  God, 
who  sent  a  crow  to  feed  his  prophet,  sent  this  his  and  his  country's 
martyr  a  cat  both  to  feed  and  warm  him.  It  was  his  own  relation 
unto  them  from  whom  I  had  it.  A  cat  came  one  day  down  into 
the  dungeon  unto  him,  and,  as  it  were,  offered  herself  to  him.  He 
was  glad  of  her,  laid  her  in  his  bosom  to  warm  him,  and  by  mak- 
ing much  of  her  won  her  love.  After  this  she  would  come  every 
day  unto  him  divers  times,  and,  when  she  could  get  one,  would 
bring  him  a  pigeon.  He  complained  to  his  keeper  of  his  cold  and 
short  fare.  The  answer  was  '  he  durst  not  do  it  better.'  '  But,' 
said  Sir  Henry,  '  if  I  can  provide  any,  will  you  promise  to  dress  it 
for  me  ?  '  'I  may  well  enough,'  said  the  keeper,  '  you  are  safe  for 
that  matter  ' ;  and  being  urged  again,  promised  him,  and  kept  his 
promise,  dressed  for  him  from  time  to  time  such  pigeons  as  his 
caterer,  the  cat,  provided  for  him.  Sir  Henry,  in  his  prosperity, 
for  this  would  ever  make  much  of  cats,  as  other  men  will  of  spaniels 
or  hounds ;  and  perhaps  you  shall  not  find  his  picture  anywhere 
but  —  like  Sir  Christopher  Hatton  with  his  dog — with  a  cat 
beside  him." 

It  is  a  charming,  bright  little  story  for  those  dark  days. 

A  reverse  story  to  that  of  Sir  Henry  Wyatt  belongs  to  our  own 
days ;  the  story  of  a  nameless  cat  saved  from  starvation  by  Henry 
Bergh.  Many  have  been  the  deeds  of  heroism  in  the  world,  many 


PUSSY    IN    PRIVATE    LIFE. 


183 


have  been  the  medals  awarded  for  such  deeds ;  but  when  all  are 
duly  weighed  in  the  balance  this  deed  too  shall  have  its  reward  of 

fame. 

A  kitten  had  been  walled  up  by  the  workmen,  in  an  iron  girder 
at  the  base  of  a  building,  and  the  walls  had 
been  laid  to  the  second  story,  when  Mr.  Bergh 
heard  what  had  happened.  First,  he  pleaded 
for  the  innocent  victim,  but  without  avail ; 
then,  appealing  to  the  law,  he  compelled  the 
walls  to  be  taken  down,  and  thus  Pussy  at 
last  was  removed  from  what — without  his 
interference  —  would  have  proved  her  living 


grave. 


It  is  worth   recording  in   this   connection 
that  a  few  years   ago  the  Albert   Medal   was 
presented   to  a  seaman   who  rescued  various 
lives  from  a  sinking  ship.     The  last 
one   saved   was  the  ship's  cat  —  the 
brave  sailor  crying  as  he  swung  her 
into  the  boat : 

"  Life  before  property  !  " 

Animals  have  had  their  full  share 
indeed,  of  human  misadventure  at 
sea,  and  have  added  many  a  tragic 
element  to  the  always  tragic  tale 

of  wreck.  A  few  years  ago,  for  instance,  the  Black-eyed  Susan 
was  lost  at  Scarborough.  The  wreck  was  several  hours  in 
going  to  pieces,  during  which  time  they  rescued  the  crew  in  the 
life  cradle.  One  man  was  six  hours  in  the  rigging  before  he  could 

£>O         O 

be  got  off.     And  (a  friend  tells  me  this,  who  heard  it  from  an  eye- 


THE  TWO-LEGGED  CAT   THAT    BELONGED 
TO   DR.   HILL  OF   PRINCETON   COLLEGE. 


1 84  PUSSY    IN    PRIVATE    LIFE. 

witness  of  the  scene)  the  first  thing  he  did  upon  reaching  the 
shore  was  to  draw  from  his  bosom  a  little  kitten  which  had  been 
his  especial  pet.  The  man  wept  like  a  child  when  he  found  that 
his  little  friend  had  perished  in  spite  of  all  his  care.  A  woman 
from  the  same  ship  brought  off  a  dog  successfully. 

Turning  to  "  scientific  "  patrons  of  cats,  we  find  that  Sir  Isaac 
Newton --if  history  tells  no  fibs — not  only  had  Diamond,  the 
little  dog  who  upset  a  lighted  candle  among  his  manuscripts,  but 
also  a  cat,  and  at  least  one  kitten.  So  much  is  certain,  for  to  give 
them  means  of  exit  and  ingress,  he  cut  two  holes  in  his  barn  door 
—  a  big  hole  for  the  cat,  a  little  hole  for  the  kitten  !  One  really 
hopes  this  story  may  be  true — it  is  so  delightfully  unsophisticated 
for  a  philosopher. 

Another  man  of  science,  Sir  David  Brewster,  began  life  with  a 
great  dislike  of  cats.  In  later  years  there  were  so  many  mice  in 
his  house,  that  after  her  promise  never  to  let  Pussy  appear  in  the 
study,  he  permitted  his  daughter  to  give  the  trap  a  feline  assistant. 
Pussy,  however,  was  no  party  to  this  contract,  and,  knowing  what 
utter  nonsense  it  was,  took  matters  into  her  own  claws. 

Writes  this  daughter,  Mrs.  Gordon  : 

"  I  was  sitting  with  my  father  one  day  and  the  study  door  was  ajar.  To  my  dismay,  Pussy 
pushed  it  open,  walked  in,  and  with  a  most  assured  air  put  a  paw  on  one  shoulder,  and  a  paw  on 
the  other,  and  then  composedly  kissed  him.  Utterly  thunderstruck  at  the  creature's  audacity,  my 
father  ended  by  being  so  delighted  that  he  quite  forgot  to  have  an  electric  shock.  He  took  Pussy 
into  his  closest  affections,  feeding  and  tending  her  as  if  she  were  a  child." 

When  after  some  years  she  died,  both  master  and  mistress 
grieved  sincerely,  and  never  had  another  pet. 

And  finally,  grave  Princeton  College  has  had  a  pet,  which  was 
also  a  phenomenon,  in  the  shape  of  a  two-legged  cat  —  biped  from 
birth  —  but  a  most  cheerful,  healthy,  engaging  little  creature,  dark 


PUSSY    IN    PRIVATE     LIFE. 


maltese  in  color,  with  a  white  star  on  her  breast.  Her  fashion  of 
walking  was  queer,  but  lively,  as  the  sketch  by  Dr.  F.  C.  Hill  of 
Princeton  will  show. 

Brought  from  a  New  York  village  to  this  college  town,  she 
adapted  herself  to  her  new  home  with  the  ready-pliability  of  youth, 
became  everybody's  pet  in  general,  her  master's  in  particular,  and 
was  in  all  ways  a  thoroughly  charming,  though  whimsical  baby-cat. 
Her  virtues  were  all  her  own,  while  her  faults,  like  those  of  other 
kittens,  were  doubtless  due  to  there  being  no  kittychism.  Such 
is  the  reason  a  modern  writer  assigns  for  feline  errors,  and  it  car- 
ries with  it  conviction.  As  the  kitten  is  bent,  the  cat  will  certainly 
be  inclined. 

Pussy's  course  in  life  was  destined  to  be  brief  as  brilliant.  In 
the  spring  of  '77,  Dr.  Hill  was  absent  a  fortnight.  He  came  back 
to  find  his  small  friend  dead.  He  had  left  her  vivacious  and 
merry  —  now  she  was  only  "  a  body."  "  Poor  Kitty,"  he  wrote, 
"  was  well  and  happy  while  I  was  with  her.  I  really  think  she 
pined  and  died  as  much  from  loneliness  as  anything  else." 

To  say  that  she  was  missed,  is  idle  ;  it  could  not  be  otherwise 
with  so  bright  and  loving  a  creature.  Love  wins  love,  the  world 
over,  and  where  love  comes,  love  follows.  Our  poor  little  Pussy's 
heart  was  all  her  master's;  it  resulted  that  in  his  heart  was  a 
corner  all  her  own. 

Her  body  was  sent,  in  the  interests  of  science,  to  Prof.  Ward 
of  Rochester,  N.  Y.,  and  by  him  the  skeleton  was  prepared  and 
mounted.  It  is  now  in  the  museum  at  Princeton  College :  so  that 

O       ' 

Pussy  remains  as  serviceable  after  death  as  it  was  her  warm  will  to 
be  in  life. 


VIII. 
AN    ODD    SET. 


VIII. 


AN    ODD    SET. 

OU  R  exclusive  world  is  apt  to  choose  its  pets  like  its  garments  — 
in  accordance  with  the  fashion  of  the  day.  Still,  there  are 
always  a  few  people  who  prefer  choosing  for  themselves ;  and  from 
this  independence  queer  intimacies  often  result.  Accident,  too, 
not  infrequently  cuts  the  knot  of  custom  ;  while,  furthermore,  it  is 
true  of  all  that  propinquity  works  wonders.  We  come  by  degrees 
to  like  what  we  live  with  ;  and  discover  merits  on  long  acquaintance 
that  a  shorter  one  would  not  reveal. 

White  rats  and  mice,  for  instance;  they  make  delightful  pets. 
Thomas  Bailey  Aldrich  says  that  he  —  no — that  little  Tom 
Bailey  had  white  mice,  and  that  Miss  Abigail  couldn't  bear  them. 
It  was  lucky  the  thought  never  occurred  to  him  of  taming  the 
common  brown  rats,  or  Miss  Abigail  would  have  had  convulsions. 
Anything  more  uncanny,  more  utterly  at  variance  with  civilization, 
it  would  be  hard  to  imagine.  To  see  them,  reconnoitering  in 
cellar  or  back  yard,  so  homely,  fierce  and  shrewd,  so  seemingly 
untamable,  full  of  device  as  the  Old  Serpent,  and,  like  him,  inspired 
with  a  wicked  intelligence,  is  to  feel  half  doubtful  of  their  right  to 


1 90  AN    ODD     SET. 

exist.  And  yet  they  can  be  tamed,  and  often  have  shown  genuine 
affection  for  their  tamers.  They  are  fond  of  music,  too  —  a  trait 
of  which  the  Pied  Piper  took  advantage,  to  coax  them  out  of 
Hamelin  Town.  In  quite  another  way  they  were  persuaded  to 
leave  Stilf— an  exodus  quite  as  strange  as  that  from  Hamelin, 
although  less  widely  known,  through  lack  of  a  Browning  to  put  it 
in  rhyme.  The  story  is  this : 

In  1519,  in  Tyrol  (a  time  and  place  very  credulous  towards 
magic),  lived  a  well-to-do  peasant  called  Simon  Fluss  —  that  is,  he 
formerly  was  well-to-do.  Now,  his  prosperity  had  received  a 
check — his  crops  were  destroyed  by  field-rats.  They  ate  the 
seeds,  the  young  stems,  the  developed  grain,  until  the  farmer 
found  himself  face  to  face  with  ruin,  and  was  fairly  badgered  into 
self-defense.  Not,  however,  by  traps  or  terriers  did  he  uphold  his 
rights;  no,  he  brought  the  matter  into  a  court  of  law.  Notice  was 
served  duly,  and  a  time  appointed  for  hearing  the  case.  Advocates 
were  chosen  for  each  side,  witnesses  were  examined,  and  finally  — 
all  legal  forms  having  been  observed — judgment  was  passed  to 
this  effect : 

"  Those  noxious  animals  called  field-rats,  must,  within  two  weeks, 
depart,  and  forever  remain  far  aloof  from  the  fields  and  meadows  of 
Stilf." 

Those  who,  from  extreme  youth  or  illness,  were  unable  to 
travel  so  soon,  had  other  two  weeks  allowed  them.  Where  the 
rats  went  to,  no  one  knows. 

The  most  remarkable  friend  of  rats  on  record,  is  Susanna, 
Countess  of  Eglintoune,  who  died  more  than  a  hundred  years  ago, 
at  the  great  age  of  ninety-one.  She  had  a  brilliant  youth  ;  natural 
distinction,  beauty  and  wit  combined  to  make  her  the  brightest 
star  in  the  society  where  she  moved.  In  old  age,  still  beautiful 


AN    ODD     SET. 


191 


and  witty,  she  tried  the  effect  of  her  charms  on  rats,  as  before  on 
human  beings,  and  with  equal  success.  A  sliding  panel  was  con- 
structed in  the  oak  wainscot  of  her  dining-room  ;  and  the  great 
feature  of  the  day  was  when,  at  a  certain  stage  of  the  dinner,  she 
would  first  tap  loudly  on  the  panel,  then  open~itr  Obedient  to 
the  signal,  a  dozen  fat,  comfortable  rats  would  emerge,  and  join 
her  at  table.  After  a  bountiful  meal  of  such  things  as  are  dear  to 
rats,  the  tap  would  be  repeated,  the  panel  opened,  and  back  would 
go  her  long-tailed  guests,  even  as  they  had  come,  with  perfect 
decorum. 

One  rat  lived  a  long  time  with  the  naturalist  Buckland,  and 
became  quite  domesticated,  wandering  at  will  around  the  study, 
examining  books  and  papers,  and  helping  himself  from  the  sugar- 
bowl.  As  he  was  too  modest,  or  too  shy  to  eat  before  folks,  and 
as  a  space  of  nearly  two  feet  separated  the  table  with  the  sugar 
from  the  mantel  where  stood  his  cage,  Mr.  Buckland  put  up  a 
little  ladder.  The  rat  easily  learned  to  climb  it,  even  when  loaded 
with  plunder.  Judy,  a  small  marmoset,  inhabited  the  same  mantel, 
and  the  pair  had  a  reprehensible  fashion  of  stealing  each  other's 
food. 

Buckland's  pets  being  as  various  as  his  interests,  the  house 
was  full  of  them,  and  a  queer  lot  they  were !  Joe,  a  pet  hare,  also 
occupied  the  study,  but  being  averse  to  civilization,  he  would  hide 
by  day,  and  only  come  out  at  night,  hopping  across  the  room  —  if 
he  thought  himself  unobserved  —  to  the  fire-place,  where  he  would 
sit  up  on  his  legs,  so  as  "  to  warm  his  white  waistcoat." 

Tiglath-Pileser  was  a  bear,  who  for  a  short  period  attended 
college  with  his  master,  went  boating  with  him,  and  to  parties,  and 
like  him  wore  cap  and  gown.  He  once  was  present  at  a  meeting 
of  the  British  association  in  Oxford,  and  had  the  honor  of  being 


192 


AN    ODD     SET. 


introduced  to  Sir  Charles  Lyell,  and  the  Prince  of  Canino.  After 
so  brilliant  a  career,  it  is  doubly  sad  to  relate  that  Tiglath-Pileser 
fell  under  the  ban  of  the  college  authorities,  and  was  rusticated 
for  an  indefinite  period.  He  died  some  years  ago  at  the  Zoological 
Garden  in  London. 

Jenny  (from  Gibralter)  and  Jacko  the  Capuchin  (from  South 
America)  were  monkeys,  and  an  unfailing  source  of  diversion  to 
Buckland  and  his  friends.  Jacko  was  very  delicate,  and  each  year, 
as  winter  approached,  was  provided  by  his  master  with  a  warm 
close-fitting  dress.  In  spite  of  this  care,  he  one  year  grew  sickly 
and  thin.  Oil  was  prescribed  for  him,  but  refused,  until  by  a 
happy  thought  he  was  allowed  to  steal  it.  Even  theft,  from  a 
commonplace,  safe  saucer,  grew  monotonous;  and  erelong  he  was 
detected  thieving  his  medicine  at  the  risk  of  his  life  from  a  lighted 
lamp. 

Other  interesting,  if  less  amusing  pets  —  an  eagle,  a  jackal, 
countless  marmots,  dormice,  squirrels,  etc.  —  evince  the  interest  felt 
by  this  lovable  scientist  in  the  objects  of  his  study  —  an  interest 
as  affectionate  as  scientific.  Indeed,  it  is  very  reassuring  to  find 
scientific  people  more  often  than  otherwise  the  possessors  of  hearts 
as  well  as  brains.  Occasionally  something  happens  to  make  us 
doubt  their  humanity,  like  the  experiment  of  a  modern  physiolo- 
gist, who,  after  teaching  a  dog  to  regard  him  as  its  friend,  had  it 
killed,  and  the  blood  of  another  dog  transfused  into  its  arteries. 
"  No  sooner  was  it  injected,"  we  are  told,  "  than  the  inert  head 
became  animated,  the  eyes  opened,  and  on  the  Professor  calling 
the  dog  by  its  name,  it  attempted  to  answer  with  a  caressing  look.'' 
Surely,  as  with  Desdemona,  that  last  look  of  ill-rewarded  affection 
will  rise  in  judgment  against  the  experimenter! 

A  greater  physiologist,  Professor  Agassiz,  would  not  have  pets. 


SAI.I.Y. 
{Zoological  Gtirdens,  London.) 


AN    ODD     SET. 


He  must  experiment,  and  he  said  that  when  he  came  to  feel  for  an 
animal  the  affection  of  intimacy,  experiment  became  impossible. 
And  then,  when  it  was  a  question  of  experiment,  a  good  fortune, 
peculiar  to  himself,  attended  him  —  whatever  he  wanted  was  sure 
to  turn  up,  whether  a  rare  specimen  or  con>mGn  one  ;  whether 
bird  or  insect,  fish  or  reptile.  Birds,  indeed,  were  his  familiar 
friends,  and  he  had  a  faculty  of  taming  them  not  unlike  that  of 
Madame  George  Sand.  Snakes,  too,  were  friendly;  and  I  have 
myself  seen  him  put  his  hand  in  the  water,  and  a  little  fish  move 
tranquilly  back  and  forth  between  his  outspread  fingers.  If  he  had 
lived  in  the  time  of  those  great  primeval  creatures  —  mammoths, 
pterodactyls,  and  the  like  —  he  certainly  would  have  been  on 
friendly  terms  with  them. 

It  may  be  said  in  passing  that  the  first  skeleton  of  a  ptero- 
dactyl ever  seen  was  discovered  by  an  English  woman  —  Mary 
Anning  of  Lyme-Regis.  She  became  a  capital  geologist,  and  made 
many  important  "finds."  Her  assistant,  although  devoted,  and, 
to  her,  invaluable,  is  not  so  well  known,  being  only  —  a  little 
dog!  He  was,  so  long  as  he  lived,  the  companion  of  her  walks; 
and  when  she  found  a  valuable  specimen  embedded  in  the  rocks, 
would  stand  guard  until  she  could  get  it  removed,  sharing  faith- 
fully in  her  toil,  and  grudging  her  none  of  the  glory. 

Very  little  appreciated  in  general  are  pigs!  Pork  is  one  thing, 
the  pig  another.  The  merits  of  pork  are  well  understood  ;  the 
merits  of  Piggy  doubtful.  Charles  Lamb  could  sing  with  delicious 
enthusiasm  the  praises  of  roast  pig  —  that  "young  and  tender 
suckling,  under  a  moon  old,  guiltless  as  yet  of  the  sty  "  ;  but  if  he 
had  been  asked  to  take  Piggy,  unroasted,  alive,  into  his  good 
graces,  he  probably  would  have  declined  with  a  shrug. 

But  still,  to  a  degree,  the  pig  is  appreciated.     Jerrold's  sketch, 


ig6 


AN    ODD     SET. 


called  "  The  Manager's  Pig,"  had  a  foundation  in  fact.  The  man- 
ager of  a  London  theater,  anxious  for  novelty,  had  a  play  written 
expressly  to  bring  a  pig  upon  the  stage.  It  was  very  successful, 
and  after  a  run  of  forty  nights,  it  was  suggested  that  the  principal 
actor  should  be  prepared  for  the  manager's  table,  and  the  other 
actors  invited  to  partake.  Whether  this  was  done  I  cannot  learn. 
A  poor  reward,  indeed,  for  Piggy  —  the  glory  of  being  eaten ! 

The  old  poet,  Robert  Herrick,  had  a  pet  pig,  and  did  not  find 
his  affection  for  it  at  all  inconsistent  with  writing  lovely  verses  to 
violets,  daffodils,  roses  and  fair  maidens.  Sir  Walter  Scott  had  a 
similar  pet;  so  had  Miss  Martineau,  and  so  had  Lord  Gardenstone, 
of  legal  fame,  who  cultivated  his  favorite's  society  to  a  degree  quite 
unusual.  In  its  pigdom  it  followed  him  everywhere,  and  even 
shared  his  bed.  But,  says  Chambers,  "  when  it  attained  the  mature 
years  and  size  of  swinedom,  this,  of  course,  was  inconvenient. 
However,  his  lordship,  unwilling  to  part  with  his  friend,  continued 
to  let  it  sleep  in  the  same  room,  and,  when  he  undressed,  laid  his 
clothes  upon  the  floor  as  a  bed  for  it.  He  said  that  he  liked  it, 
for  it  kept  his  clothes  warm  till  the  morning!" 

This  was  even  outdoing  Mr.  Hawker,  the  clergyman,  whose 
eccentric  ways  have  been  so  delightfully  described  by  Baring- 
Gould.  Gyp,  a  black  Berkshire  pig,  was  one  of  his  eccentricities. 
Being  daily  washed  and  curried,  it  grew  up  cleanly  and  intelligent, 
and  followed  its  master  exactly  like  a  dog.  It  even  followed  him 
into  ladies' drawing-rooms  —  not  always  to  the  satisfaction  of  those 
present.  In  this  case,  he  would  order  it  to  go  home,  and  it  would 
obey,  slinking  off  with  an  air  of  conscious  disgrace,  and  its  tail 
hanging  limply,  out  of  curl. 

Gyp  was  not  the  only  pet  at  the  vicarage ;  birds,  horses,  a  pair 
of  stags  and  a  family  party  of  nine  cats  added  considerable  variety 


AN    ODD     SET. 


197 


to  the  good  clergyman's  life.  Especially  the  cats!  They  con- 
voyed him,  like  a  bodyguard,  to  and  from  church,  and  either  frisked 
in  the  chancel  during  service,  or,  rubbing  up  against  him,  purred 
an  accompaniment  to  his  prayers.  One  black-letter  Sunday  the 
best-loved  cat  of  all  yielded  to  temptation  —  forgetful  of  the  day, 
she  caught  a  mouse !  Never  again  was  this  sinner  allowed  to 
enter  the  church  its  conduct  had  disgraced  ;  hereafter,  eight  cats 
only  formed  their  master's  escort  —  the  ninth  staid  at  home  in 
solitary  shame. 

How  delighted  Mr.  Hawker  would  have  been  with  a  squirrel 
which  was  once  chronicled  in  the  New  York  Tribune.  Its  owner 
is  a  member  of  the  great  family  Anonymous,  but,  thanks  to  his 
humorous,  sympathetic  observation,  the  personality  of  his(?)  pet  is 
more  distinct.  "  He  began  life,"  says  the  Unknown,  "by  tumbling 
out  of  the  nest  when  an  infant.  He  fell  into  the  hands  of  mv 

J 

nephew,  then  at  Harvard,  and  lived  in  his  pockets.  He  could  be 
put  to  sleep  at  any  moment  if  made  to  stand  on  his  head  —  which 
was  odd  but  convenient.  He  always  went  to  recitation,  which  must 
have  been  very  gratifying  to  the  professors." 

The  little  fellow  had  a  moral  nature  as  well  as  keen  wits,  and 
knew  perfectly  well  when  he  was  doing  wrong. 

"  His  chief  sin  was  tearing  off  slivers  of  wall-paper.  I  would 
then  pick  him  up  and  say,  '  Oh,  you  naughty  squirrel !  what  have 
you  been  doing? 'and  carry  him  round  the  room.  When  I  got 
near  the  place,  his  guilty  conscience  invariably  compelled  him  to 
shriek.  Then  I  would  flick  his  nose,  and  say,  '  Go  away,  naughty 
squirrel ! '  and  he  would  fly  to  a  corner  of  the  room,  and  fling  him- 
self on  his  stomach,  with  his  fore  and  hind  legs  stretched  out  to 
their  extreme  length,  and  his  bushy  tail  curled  over  his  back  and 
down  his  nose,  to  conceal  his  shame." 


198 


AN    ODD     SET. 


Once  he  was  ill  for  several  weeks,  and  his  teeth  grew  so  Ions: 

o  o 

that  in  order  to  save  his  life  it  became  necessary  to  take  him  to  a 
dentist.  He  kicked  furiously,  but  the  operation  was  successful. 
"  Although  not  much  hurt,  his  rage  and  indignation  at  the  whirli- 
gig thing  dentists  use  were  unbounded,  and  his  shrieks  brought 
people  in  from  the  streets  to  know  what  was  happening." 

The  fate  of  this  amusing  patient  we  are  not  told. 

From  the  squirrel  to  the  despised  skunk  is  no  very  long  step, 
nor  is  it  an  unpleasant  one  —  popular  prejudice  to  the  contrary. 
One  gentleman,  at  least,  has  had  the  courage  to  study  its  habits, 
and  to  introduce  a  number  of  young  skunks  into  his  home.  At 
different  times  he  had  ten.  From  some  he  removed  the  scent- 
bags,  but  the  majority  retained  them,  and  behaved  with  the  utmost 
propriety.  They  were  coaxing,  kittenish  little  creatures,  and  re- 
sponded to  his  caresses  with  delightful  readiness. 

Crowley  —  late  favorite  in  Central  Park  —  was  a  chimpanzee  of 
enlarged  culture.  He  was  often  photographed,  and  once  was 
painted  by  the  artist  J.  H.  Beard.  He  "took  his  reg'lar  meals," 
used  spoon  and  napkin  with  propriety,  understood  the  meaning 
of  plate  and  cup,  drank  from  a  glass,  and  when  his  meal  was 
ended,  would  assist  digestion  by  a  series  of  gymnastics,  before 
which  the  feats  of  Milo  pale.  Like  royalty  of  old,  he  dined  in 
public,  and  a  crowd  was  always  present  to  witness  the  ceremony. 

Sally,  who  adorned  the  London  "  Zoo,"  had  not  been  so  well 
trained  in  table  refinements ;  but  in  other  respects  was  quite  as 
remarkable  as  Crowley.  She  seemed  to  understand  every  look 
and  tone  of  her  keeper;  she  performed  many  knowing  little  tricks, 
had  a  keen  sense  of  humor,  and  crowned  her  achievements  one 
day  by  sitting  for  her  photograph.  I  remember  her  in  exactly  this 
pose,  mutely  examining  with  great  critical  eyes  the  crowd  of  vis- 


AN    ODD     SET. 


199 


itors,  and  I  could  not  help  wishing  I  knew  her  thoughts.  But  she 
kept  them  to  herself,  and  only  by  an  occasional  snicker  did  she 
betray  the  fact  that  we  amused  her. 

Among  the  famous  people  who  have  interested  themselves  in 
hares  may  be  mentioned  the  dashing  Prince  Rupert  (Boy's  mas- 
ter), and  the  shy,  melancholy  poet,  Cowper.  The  association  was 
doubtless  accidental  with  the  Prince;  but  with  Cowper  it  was  the 
result  of  strong  natural  sympathy  between  himself  and  these  timid 
creatures  of  the  wood- 
land. He  contributed  to 
the  Gentleman's  Maga- 
zine, I  believe,  a  delight- 
ful account  of  his  pets  ; 
and  was  almost  child- 
ishly pleased  by  the  pres- 
e  n  t  of  their  picture, 
drawn  for  him  by  a 
friend. 

"  They    look    exactly 
like  other  hares,"  said  an 

undiscriminating  lady ;  but  the  poet  did  not  agree  with  her ;  for  him 
each  had  its  differing  ways  and  whims,  its  own  individuality.  Little 
Puss,  for  instance,  grew  quite  tame,  was  affectionate,  and  grateful  for 
kindness  ;  while  Tiney  would  not  suffer  the  slightest  caress  —  being 
gruff  and  surly,  a  little  Diogenes  in  fur ;  and  Bess  never  had  to  be 
tamed,  but  was  docile  from  the  first,  and  took  a  humorous  delight 
in  playing  tricks  on  her  companions.  Bess  died  young,  surly 
Tiney  lived  nine  years ;  and  Puss,  the  best  beloved  of  all,  died 
of  a  hare's  old  age  when  within  a  month  of  completing  his 


200  AN    ODD     SET. 

twelfth  year.  Deep  was  his  master's  grief;  long  and  sincere  his 
mourning. 

The  slow  tortoise  has  had  almost  as  many  friends  as  the  agile 
hare,  but  none  more  famous  than  Mr.  Gilbert  White  of  Selborne. 
In  1770,  while  visiting  an  old  friend,  he  observed  in  her  garden  a 
land  tortoise,  which  had  been  there,  she  told  him,  for  the  last 
thirty  years.  Timothy,  the  pet's  name,  spent  nearly  half  of  his 
life  in  retirement,  but  in  the  other  half  had  learned  to  recognize 
his  mistress  and  to  come  at  her  call.  On  her  death,  some  ten 
years  later,  he  passed  into  the  possession  of  Mr.  White ;  and  in 
March  was  dug  out  of  the  ground  to  accompany  his  new  master 
to  Selborne.  He  took  the  transfer  in  high  dudgeon;  so  much  so 
that  immediately  on  arriving  he  went  into  winter  quarters  again, 
and  staid  there  until  May.  The  fourteenth  of  this  month  he 
walked  out  in  the  garden,  and  found  it  more  to  his  mind  than  he 
expected,  with  nice  paths,  soft,  short  grass,  and  plenty  of  succulent 
vegetables.  He  gained  rapidly  in  health  and  spirits,  and  after  a 
few  months  was  able  to  dictate  a  letter  for  Miss  Mulso,  a  letter 
almost  as  good  as  that  of  little  Nero  to  Carlyle. 

After  telling  her  that  by  birth  he  was  a  Virginian,  and  that  he 
had  been  kidnaped  into  England,  he  speaks  of  his  happy  life  with 
the  lady  now  deceased,  as  contrasted  with  the  disquietude  he 
suffers  in  having  a  naturalist  for  a  master,  and  being  all  the  time 
a  subject  for  experiments.  "  Your  sorrowful  reptile,  Timothy,"  he 
concludes.  What  became  of  him  eventually,  I  cannot  say.  Tur- 
tles are  proverbially  long  lived ;  but  if  Timothy  is  dead  let  us 
trust  that  he  left  a  small  reptilian  ghost,  still  to  wander  through 
the  garden  of  his  fame. 

Quite  famous  in  their  clay  were  the  chameleons  of  Mile,  de 
Saudery,  a  seventeenth  century  novelist.  One  of  the  kindest- 


AN    ODD     SET.  2OI 

hearted  women  in  France,  she  was  continually  giving  to  the  poor, 
or  appealing  for  the  distressed;  so  that  her  fame  to-day  rests  rather 
upon  her  charities  than  her  writings.  Her  chameleons  excited 
much  curiosity,  and  strangers  went  to  see  them,  as  one  of  the 
sights  of  the  city.  The  last  glimpse  we  get  of  -them  in  history  is 
a  post-mortem  one,  in  1698,  when  Dr.  Martin  Lister  visited  Paris, 
and  called  upon  the  venerable  novelist  —  then  in  her  ninety-first 
year.  She  made  herself  very  agreeable,  and  finally,  he  says,  took 
him  to  her  closet  and  showed  him  "  the  skeletons  of  two  chame- 
leons which  she  had  kept  near  four  years  alive.  In  winter  she 
lodged  them  in  cotton,  and  in  the  fiercest  weather  kept  them 
under  a  ball  of  copper  filled  with  hot  water." 

The  good  lady  would  have  sympathized  with  Antonia,  Mark 
Antony's  beautiful  daughter,  who  petted  the  murenae  in  her  fish- 
ponds, and  of  one  in  particular  became  so  fond  that  she  fastened, 
gold  ear-rings  to  its  head  —  a  favor  the  poor  fish  could  well  have 
spared. 

\Yashington  Irving  upheld  the  right  of  harmless  snakes  to  live 
in  peace;  and  a  pretty  story  is  told  of  his  preventing  a  guest  from 
killing  a  little  striped  adder  —  pointing  the  lesson  of  tolerance  by 
gently  stroking  his  protege. 

The  great  Goethe  was  in  full  accord  with   this  feeling.     He 

O  O 

kept  a  snake  for  some  months,  feeding  it  himself,  and  caring  for 
it,  until  his  interest,  scientific  at  first,  became  personal  and  affec- 
tionate. The  creature  became  quite  friendly,  and  would  uprear 
its  head  in  recognition,  whenever  the  master  approached. 

The  poet's  mother  once  alluded  to  his  favorite  —  rather  femi- 
ninely—  as  "a  nasty  thing."  "Oh,"  said  her  son,  "if  the  snake 
would  but  spin  himself  a  house,  and  turn  into  a  butterfly  to  oblige 
her,  we  should  hear  no  more  about  'nasty  things.'  But  we  can't 


202  AN    ODD     SET. 

all  be  butterflies.  .  .  .  Poor  snake!  they  should  treat  you 
better.  How  he  looks  at  me  !  how  he  rears  his  head !  Is  it  not 
as  if  he  knew  that  I  was  taking  his  part?  " 

Perhaps,  however,  even  Irving  and  Goethe,  despite  their 
theories,  would  have  shrunk  from  the  extraordinary  pet  which  Sir 
Joseph  Banks  kept  in  his  library,  much  to  the  horror  of  unsuspect- 
ing guests.  It  was,  in  fact,  a  boa-constrictor ! 

People  of  contemplative  habits,  who  enjoy  a  quiet  life  among 
their  books,  and  hate  mortally  the  intrusion  of  broom  or  duster, 
are  very  apt  to  be  interested  in  spiders.  These  insects  have  the 
same  meditative  disposition,  and  an  equal  aversion  to  housemaids. 
The  wise  Spinoza  spent  his  odd  moments  in  training  them  to 
recognize  signals,  and  to  have  little  combats  with  each  other. 
Magliabecchi,  the  old  Florentine  librarian,  had  a  similar  fancy. 
From  morning  till  night,  from  night  till  morning,  year  in,  year 
out,  he  might  be  found  reclining  in  a  sort  of  wooden  cradle,  im- 
movably fixed  among  piles  of  books  and  manuscripts;  and  which, 
in  course  of  time,  was  further  anchored  to  the  surrounding  objects 
by  strands  of  cobweb.  Here  he  lived,  reading  volume  after  vol- 
ume with  insatiable  zeal,  eating  quantities  of  hard-boiled  eggs,  and 
cautioning  whoever  called  upon  him  not  to  trouble  his  dear  spiders  ! 

Such  intimacy  would  never  have  suited  Fourier,  who  was 
horribly  frightened  one  morning  as  he  lay  in  bed,  by  seeing  a  small 
spider  on  the  ceiling  above  him.  Up  he  sprang;  but  instead  of 
dressing,  or  dislodging  the  intruder  with  a  broom,  he  ran  from  room 
to  room,  screaming  for  help.  "Quick!  hurry!"  cried  the  poor 
reformer ;  "  do  somebody  take  it  away  quick  !  " 

The  most  famous,  and  undoubtedly  the  best-known  patrons  of 
spiders,  are  Mahomet  and  Robert  Bruce.  Of  the  former  it  is  told 
that  he  once  fled,  hotly  pursued  by  foes,  and  concealed  himself  in 


AN    ODD     SET.  2CU 

\j 

a  cave.  Straightway,  an  obliging  spider  threw  his  web  across  the 
entrance  ;  so  that  when  the  enemy  came  up,  seeing  it,  they  said, 
"  No  one  has  been  here  —  for  behold  the  unbroken  web !  "  and  car- 
ried the  search  elsewhere.  Thus  the  Prophet  escaped,  and  good 
Mahometans  have  honored  the  race  of  Webspinner  since  that  day. 

The  story  of  Bruce  is  equally  pleasant.  The  weary  king  was 
about  to  give  up  the  struggle  for  his  rights,  when  encouraged  by 
the  efforts  of  a  patient  little  spider,  to  "  try  again,"  he  did  so  — - 
this  time  saving  both  life  and  kingdom. 

In  the  Cricket  on  the  Hearth,  Charles  Dickens  spread  the  fame 
of  that  friendly  little  creature  far  and  near.  But  long  before  his 
day,  the  eccentric  Lord  Byron  (uncle  to  the  poet)  had  diverted  his 
bitter  old  age  by  the  study  of  its  ways.  Human  society,  except 
that  of  a  few  servants,  he  would  none  of;  but  for  hours  together 
would  lie  upon  the  ground,  playing  with  the  crickets  he  had  tamed, 
making  them  perform  tricks,  and  —  if  they  displeased  him  —  whip- 
ping them  with  little  wisps  of  hay. 

From  so  moody  and  misanthropic  an  old  gentleman,  it  is  a 
pleasure  to  turn  to  a  lady  now  living  —  an  artist  —  who  cultivates 
crickets  on  social  principles,  and  reaps  duly  a  large  social  reward. 

The  following  account  of  her  pets  has  been  sent  by  a  friend. 

"  The  crickets  of  Miss  C—  -'s  studio  days  were  considered 
such  a  curiosity  that  she  had  letters  from  California  and  all  over 
the  country,  asking  about  them  and  the  care  of  them.  Her  end  and 
aim  was  to  raise  crickets  from  the  eggs,  laid  in  glass  globes  in  the 
studio,  that  would  sing  in  the  winter,  when  all  the  summer  crickets 
were  frozen  up  in  the  fields,  beneath  the  snow ;  crickets  to  sing  to 
her  all  through  the  long  winter  nights,  when  the  wind  would  be  howl- 
ing down  the  chimney,  and  the  sleet  beating  against  the  windows. 

"  Years  and  years  gave  no  success,  beyond  a  few,  that  were  sure 


2O4 


AN    ODD     SET. 


to  die  before  the  end  of  January;  but  at  last,  just  the  winter  before 
she  married,  there  was  one  sweet  singer  which  made  music  for  her 
all  winter  long,  and  which  she  trained  to  sing  in  the  ruffle  of  her 
neck.  Better  yet,  it  liked  to  sit  and  sing  in  the  ruffle  at  her  left 
wrist,  while  the  hand  kept  very  quiet,  holding  the  mahl-stick  at  the 
easel.  Meanwhile,  Toodles,  the  immense  maltese  trained  cat,  would 
sing  an  accompaniment  from  the  rug  before  the  open  grate  fire." 

Now  is  not  that  a  picture  of  cheery  cosiness  and  comfort !  I 
trust  the  lady  will  pardon  her  separation  from  other  artists  and 
their  pets,  in  consideration  of  the  pleasant  glow  her  open  studio 
door  lets  shine  upon  the  Odd  Set. 

Who  would  ever  think  of  a  snail  becoming  famous?  Such  is 
the  case,  however ;  and  in  the  Museum  of  Natural  History,  at 
South  Kensington,  the  very  hero  may  be  seen  of  whom  we  write. 
Also  his  portrait,  together  with  his  story,  enlivens  the  pages  of  Dr. 

Woodward's  Manual  of 
the  Mollusca,  under  the 
heading  of  Helix  Dcscr- 
torum.  He  was  brought 

O 

with  other  specimens,  in 
1846,  from  Egypt;  and 
having  so  withdrawn  into 
his  shelly  house  that  it 
seemed  empty,  was  gummed  to  a  piece  of  cardboard,  numbered, 
named,  and  placed  in  the  museum.  Here  he  lay  for  four  years,  in 
a  kind  of  Rip  Van  Winkle  slumber,  his  very  existence  unknown, 
until  in  1850  he  woke,  and  tried  to  walk  off  from  the  card.  But  to 
do  this,  he  must  have  abandoned  his  well-gummed  house,  and  such 
a  sacrifice  was  not  to  be  thought  of.  So  he  snoozed  again,  until 
an  inquisitive  scientist  noticed  his  footprints,  immersed  him  in 


AN    ODD     SET. 


205 


warm  water,  and  thus  at  length  released  him  from  "  durance  vile." 
His  picture  was  drawn,  his  history  noted,  and  then  —  no  higher 
distinction  being  possible  for  a  snail  —  he  was  disposed  of,  let  us 
say.  He  ceased  to  be,  and  only  his  shell  remains. 

A  yet  more  wonderful  pet  has  lately  died  in  ^Edinburgh  at  the 
age  of  certainly  sixty  years,-and  very  possibly  more.  Its  name  was 
Granny,  and  it  was  a  sea-anemone.  Found  on  the  wild  Berwick- 
shire coast,  in  Scotland,  in  1828,  it  remained  with  its  discoverer 
until  1854,  and  then  passed  into  the  care  of  Prof.  Flemming.  By 
him  it  was  placed  in  the  Botanic  Garden  of  Edinburgh,  and  there 
lived  a  peaceful  if  monotonous  life.  Every  two  weeks  it  was  given 
half  a  mussel,  which  was  the  only  food  it  required.  But  lack  of 
incident  was  no  drawback  to  fame;  and,  like  "  Helix  desertorum," 
Granny  was  sketched,  described,  and  visited.  More  wonderful  yet, 
it  possessed  an  album,  wherein  famous  visitors  inscribed  their 
names,  and  whose  autographic  treasures  will  long  commemorate 
the  tranquil  fascinations  of  Granny  ! 

With  these  odd  characters  may  be  counted  Sir  John  Lubbock's 
wasp.  We  usually  think  of  wasps,  in  the  language  of  a  modern 
humorist,  as  little  creatures,  very  inflammable  in  their  nature,  and 
hasty  in  their  conclusions,  or  end.  The  wasp  in  question  seems 
to  have  been  gentler-tempered  or  milder-mannered  than  the  majority 
of  her  race ;  and  came  to  be  on  sociable  terms  with  her  scientific 
friend.  Like  so  many  pets,  she  was  short-lived.  "  In  her  last 
hours,"  says  Sir  John,  "  she  would  take  no  food,  though  she  still 
moved  her  legs,  wings  and  abdomen.  The  following  day,  I  offered 
her  food  for  the  last  time,  but  both  head  and  thorax  were  dead  or 
paralyzed  ;  she  could  but  wag  her  tail.  So  far  as  I  could  judge,  her 
death  was  quite  painless,  and  she  now  occupies  a  place  in  the  British 
Museum." 


206  AN    ODD    SET- 

The  quaintest,  most  pathetic  pet  in  history,  I  take  it,  was  the  fly, 
which  set  out  —  very  gaily,  no  doubt  —  with  other  flies,  in  a  ship 
bound  to  Spitzbergen.  One  by  one,  with  the  increasing  cold,  his 
companions  perished,  until  at  last  he  was  left  alone.  It  was  no 
great  comfort  that  the  sailors  cherished  him  as  never  fly  was  cher- 
ished before ;  and  erelong,  despite  the  tenderest  care,  he  turned 
over  on  his  back  and  died.  He  was  honored  with  burial,  and  even 
with  tears,  as  the  last  frail  link,  at  home's  antipodes,  with  home. 

To  conclude  this  Odd  Set,  there  can  hardly  be  anything  odder 
than  the  story  of  a  toad  with  which  formerly  I  was  well  acquainted. 
His  summer  residence  was  the  shady,  cool  brick  floor  of  a  kitchen 
porch,  with  a  cistern  conveniently  set  in  one  corner.  He  was  a 
portly,  contemplative  fellow,  and  had  no  objection  to  receiving  flies 
from  the  human  race.  It  was  his  habit  to  come  out  from  retire- 
ment towards  evening,  and  sitting  on  the  well-curb,  imbibe  the 
evening  air  and  insects.  On  one  of  these  occasions  he  was  seen 
by  a  grave  college  professor  and  a  student  of  strong  experimental 
bias  who  —  noticing  the  June  fireflies  sparkling  all  around — were 
seized  with  the  desire  to  give  him  a  light  meal. 

o  o 

It  was  quite  to  his  taste,  and  he  swallowed  a  number  of  flies. 
But  even  his  capacious  stomach  had  a  limit,  and  when  it  could  ac- 
commodate no  more,  he  sat  motionless  and  pensive  on  the  curb. 
And  then  there  was  a  curious  sight.  He  had  absorbed  the  fireflies 
so  rapidly,  that  though  imprisoned,  they  were  still  alive  ;  and,  be- 
ginning to  glow,  they  turned  their  captor  into  a  kind  of  Chinese 
lantern.  Actually,  he  was  lit  up  from  within,  and  a  soft  luminous- 
ness  shone  through  his  thin  membranous  throat.  Erelong  the 
glow  ceased  —  the  "slaves  of  the  lamp"  were  dead.  It  was  an 
uncanny,  goblin-like  sight ;  but  my  own  sympathies,  I  confess,  were 
rather  with  the  lights  than  the  lantern. 


IX. 
MILITARY    PETS. 


IX. 


MILITARY  PETS. 

LIAN  tells  us  that  among  the  Greeks  at  Marathon  fought 
one  soldier  who  had  a  favorite  hound.  As  the  two  were 
friends  and  fellow-soldiers  in  life,  so  in  death  they  still  lay  side  by 
side  upon  that  immortal  battle  field.  And,  says  /Elian,  their 
effigies  were  placed  together  on  the  memorial  tablet,  to  the  end  that 
their  fame  might  live  long  after  their  bodies  were  dust. 

Was  it  not  finely  done  —  to  commemorate  with  the  man  that 
died  for  his  country  the  animal  that  died  for  his  master? 

There  have  been  many  similar  instances  of  canine  devotion  ; 
yet  it  must  be  confessed  that  with  dogs  as  with  men,  less  lofty 
motives  occasionally  lead  them  into  war.  A  restless,  happy-go- 
lucky  turn  of  mind  has  inspired  many  a  four-footed  one  with  the 
wish  to  be  a  soldier,  and  carried  him  with  credit  through  the 
campaigns. 

Pure  adventurousness  animated  Bobby,  a  pet  of  the  Scotch 
Fusileers,  and  gave  him  a  fame  out  of  all  proportion  to  the  small 
body  now  preserved  in  the  United  Service  Museum  in  London. 

In  this  curious  and  little    known   collection   there    are    many 

209 


2io  MILITARY    PETS. 

interesting  objects  —  from  the  sword  which  Cromwell  used  with 
such  fatal  energy  at  Droghecla,  to  a  petticoat  once  worn  by  Queen 
Elizabeth.  Why  the  latter  should  be  in  a  military  museum  it  is 
hard  to  say,  unless,  indeed,  it  is  regarded  in  the  light  of  feminine 
armor.  But  Bobby's  right  to  be  there  is  indefeasible.  A  dog  of 
war,  he  can  rest  better  nowhere  than  amidst  the  military  surround- 
ings so  dear  to  him  in  life.  Very  sagacious  he  looks,  seated  dog- 
fashion  on  his  haunches,  and  gazing  alertly  forward  with  a  knowing 
cock  of  the  head. 

Of  low  degree  —  a  mere  butcher's  dog  —  he  nevertheless,  like 
Napoleon,  possessed  a  great  soul  in  a  little  body.  All  he  needed 
to  rise  from  the  ranks  was  an  opportunity,  and  erelong  it  came. 
When,  in  the  spring  of  1853,  a  battalion  of  the  Scots  Fusileer 
Guards  was  stationed  at  Windsor,  Bobby  began  to  haunt  the 
barracks.  The  butcher,  his  master,  came  for  him  several  times 
and  took  him  home,  only  to  find  his  place  vacant  again  the  next 
day.  He  yielded  at  last  to  the  inevitable,  and  Bobby  went  his  way 
without  hindrance.  A  soldier  he  would  be;  a  soldier  he  was;  and, 
as  his  True  History  relates,  never  failed  to  be  first  on  parade,  and 
was  always  ready  to  forage.  In  1854  he  embarked  on  the  Simoon 
with  his  friends  for  the  Crimea.  The  first  day  out,  he  came  near 
being  thrown  overboard  as  a  vagrant,  but  being  claimed  by  the 
entire  battalion,  was  allowed  to  stay. 

He  served  at  Malta,  Scutari  and  Varna ;  was  returned  as  miss- 
ing from  the  Alma,  but  reappeared  in  time  for  the  wild  battle 
storm  of  Balaklava.  Surviving  this,  he  was  heard  of  next  at  Inker- 
mann,  where  he  proved  his  courage  by  chasing  spent  cannon  balls 
over  the  bloody  field.  A  medal  rewarded  this  feat,  and  was  worn 
by  him  suspended  from  a  collar  of  Fusileer  buttons  linked  together 
in  a  chain.  He  was  present  at  several  other  battles  ;  and  when. 


r 


HOBBY,   THE   DOG   WHO   WOULD   BE   A  SOLDIER. 


MILITARY    PETS.  2I1 

*      O 

after  the  fall  of  Sebastopol,  the  battalion  returned  to  England, 
Bobby  marched  into  London  at  its  head — the  observed  of  all 
observers. 

And  now  it  might  be  supposed  that  he  would  rest  on  his 
laurels  and  grow  old  in  peace.  Alas  !  he  had  escaped  from  Bala- 
klava  only  to  meet  destiny  in  London.  In  1860  he  was  run  over  by 
a  cart,  and  instantly  killed.  Some  say  it  was  a  butcher's  cart  — 
which  would  imply  a  certain  prosaic  justice  in  his  fate  —  the 
profession  he  had  scorned  thus  avenging  itself. 

The  poodle  Moustache  enhanced  the  glories  of  the  Consulate 
and  Empire.  He  was  present  at  Marengo  and  at  Jena;  he  once 
detected  a  spy;  he  saved  several  lives;  and  finally,  at  Austerlitz, 
when  the  standard-bearer  of  his  regiment  fell  mortally  wounded, 
he  sprang  forward,  seized  the  colors  from  the  very  grasp  of  the 
enemy,  and  bore  them  in  triumph  to  his  fellow-soldiers.  It  was 
the  deed  of  a  hero,  and  its  recompense  was  such  as  heroes  love. 
Marechal  Lannes  received  Moustache  upon  the  field  of  battle, 
praised  him,  thanked  him  in  the  name  of  all,  and  then,  bending 
down,  fastened  to  his  neck  —  the  cross  of  the  Legion  of  Honor! 

Another  dog  of  war  was  Pincher,  who  accompanied  the  Forty- 
second  Highlanders.  In  the  days  when  Napoleon's  empire  hung 
trembling  in  the  balance,  this  valiant  terrier  threw  his  own  small 
influence  into  the  scale  against  him,  and  gallantly  barked  and 
capered  at  Quatre  Bras  until  wounded  by  a  ball.  Even  then  he 
refused  to  leave,  and  waited  on  the  field  for  his  friends.  Some- 
what later  he  charged  with  the  Forty-second  at  Waterloo,  came  off 
unhurt  from  that  tremendous  field,  entered  Paris  with  the  allies, 
and  in  1818  brought  his  laurels  home  to  Scotland.  As  in  Bobby's 
case,  accident  closed  the  life  which  the  chances  of  war  had  spared: 
while  out  rabbit-hunting,  poor  Pincher  by  mistake  was  shot. 


2I4  MILITARY    PETS. 

Then  there  was  Dash,  who  served  in  the  Royal  African  Corps, 
and  made  it  his  special  mission  to  examine  the  sentry  rounds,  and 
wake  up  any  sentinel  who  might  be  napping  at  his  post.  Many  a 
drowsy  soldier  had  occasion  to  thank  him,  and  he  remained  chief 
favorite  with  the  corps  until  his  death. 

Dogs  have  distinguished  themselves  in  the  navy  as  well  as  on 
land.  Sir  John  Carr  tells  the  story  of  a  Newfoundland  on  the 
English  ship  Nymph.  During  an  engagement  with  the  French 
ship  Cleopatra,  the  men  at  first  tried  to  keep  their  pet  below.  In 
vain  ;  he  escaped  them,  and  ran  upon  deck,  barking  furiously,  with 
every  sign  of  warlike  rage.  When  the  Cleopatra  struck  her  colors, 
he  was  among  the  foremost  to  board  her,  and  promenaded  her 
deck  with  a  proud  and  lofty  air,  as  one  who  felt  that  his  share  in 
the  victory  was  not  small. 

Another  Newfoundland,  well  named  Victor,  served  on  the 
Bellona,  in  the  battle  of  Copenhagen.  So  courageous  and  cheer- 
ful was  his  mien  amidst  flying  balls  and  smoke  and  roar  of  cannon, 
that  the  men  could  not  refrain  from  cheering  him,  even  in  the 
hottest  of  the  action.  After  peace  was  signed  at  Amiens  and  the 
troops  were  paid  off,  the  men  of  the  Bellona  had  a  farewell  dinner 
on  shore. 

Honorably  mindful  of  their  four-footed  comrade,  seat  and  plate 
were  kept  for  Victor  at  the  table.  And  there  he  sat,  dignified  and 
sedate,  among  the  veterans,  sharing  their  roast  beef  and  plum- 
pudding.  They  drank  his  health,  too,  and  doubtless  he  responded 
in  his  own  fashion  to  the  toast.  Finally,  the  bill  was  made  out  in 
his  proper  name,  and  —  but  here  the  parallel  with  human  "diners 
out  "  ceases.  It  was  settled  by  an  adoring  crowd  of  friends. 

Another  naval  hero  was  Admiral  Collingwood's  Bounce,  who 
barked  stoutly  through  various  battles,  and  who  to  undoubted 


MILITARY    PETS.  215 

courage  joined  no  inconsiderable  amount  of  vanity.  After  his 
master  was  raised  to  the  peerage,  Bounce  put  on  all  the  airs  which 
the  sensible  admiral  had  dispensed  with  —  behaving,  said  the  latter, 
as  though  he,  too,  had  become  a  "  right  honorable." 

But  the  most  delightful  dog  of  war  within— my  knowledge  is 
little  Toutou  of  the  French  Zouaves.  Once  upon  a  time,  when 
they  were  to  leave  France  for  Genoa,  an  order  was  passed,  for- 
bidding dogs  on  shipboard.  Fancy  the  dismay  of  these  pet-loving 
soldiers!  What  could  be  done?  Each  man,  as  his  name  was 
called,  had  to  pass  into  the  ship  by  a  narrow  gangway,  with  offi- 
cers stationed  at  each  end ;  and  to  conceal  a  dog  under  such  cir- 
cumstances was  clearly  impossible.  At  this  crisis  some  invent- 
ive genius  suggested  unscrewing  the  drums,  and  concealing  within 
them  as  many  as  possible  of  their  pets.  No  sooner  thought  of  than 
done  ;  and  so  far,  well.  But  now,  like  a  thunderbolt  out  of  a 
serene  sky,  came  the  horrid  order :  "  Let  the  regiment  embark  to 
the  sound  of  fife  and  drum  !  " 

There  was  no  escape ;  the  drums  must  be  beat,  and  they  were. 
Simultaneously  with  the  sound,  and  smothering  it,  arose  a 
lengthened,  ear-piercing  howl. 

"  What !     Where  !  "  cried  the  officers  in  consternation. 

No  sign  of  a  dog  anywhere,  yet  the  louder  the  drums  resounded 
the  louder  swelled  the  canine  chorus.  At  last  a  spaniel  fell  out  of 
an  imperfectly  screwed  drum,  and  the  stratagem  was  revealed. 
Then,  amidst  roars  of  laughter,  each  drummer  was  obliged  to 
advance  alone,  and  beat  his  instrument.  If  there  was  an  answering 
howl,  the  drum  was  at  once  unscrewed  and  its  occupant  ejected. 

Only  one  dog  ran  the  gauntlet  successfully,  and  this  was 
Toutou.  Again  and  again  the  drum  was  struck  in  which  he  lay 
concealed,  but  only  its  own  reverberations  answered,  and  the 


216  MILITARY    PETS. 

drummer  passed  unsuspected.  Once  fairly  out  at  sea,  his  pet  was 
released.  He  remained  with  the  Third  Zouaves  throughout  the 
war ;  and  when  at  its  close  they  entered  Paris,  who  should  be  seen 
proudly  marching  at  their  head  but  Toutou,  the  clog  whom  the 
drum-taps  could  not  scare! 

A  dog-loving  soldier  in  our  own  army  was  the  Hungarian  Gen- 
eral Asboth,  a  man  of  indomitable  fire  and  courage.  "  Stilled,  sad- 
dened, but  not  bitter,"  says  Mrs.  Fremont,  "he  held  fast  to  his 
faith  in  the  progress  of  liberty.  It  was  only  natural  that  stray 
dogs  should  meet  with  kindness  from  him."  Two  special  favo- 
rites, York  and  Cream,  were  afterwards  left  by  him  to  this  lady's 
care.  Anything  canine  was  dear  to  his  heart  : 

"  Mongrel,  puppy,  whelp  and  hound, 
And  cur  of  low  degree," 

and  it  came  to  be  well  understood  in  camp  that  all  stray  dogs  were 
to  be  brought  to  the  general.  He  was  a  noticeable  figure,  riding 
the  rounds  in  a  suit  of  white  linen  and  great  cavalry  boots,  with  a 
noisy  four-footed  retinue  at  his  heels. 

From  an  eye-witness  comes  the  following  story.  General 
Asboth  returned  one  day  from  a  scouting  expedition  with  a  bullet 
through  his  shoulder;  and  as  there  had  been  little  fighting  up  to 
this  time,  the  accident  was  a  great  event.  There  happened  to  be 
in  camp  a  young  volunteer  captain  of  engineers  on  "  detached 
duty."  Swelling  with  a  pleasant  sense  of  his  own  importance,  he 
thought  proper  at  this  crisis  to  call  and  offer  his  services.  The 
old  general  thanked  him:  "  Mine  own  officers  are  very  good,"  said 
he ;  "  they  do  everythings  for  me.  But,  Captain,  there  is  a  thing  ; 
if  you  would  go  through  the  camp  and  find  my  little  dog-pup  which 
was  stole,  I  would  be  so  much  obliged." 


MILITARY    PETS.  217 

This  chance  of  distinction  was  not  appreciated.  "  At  last 
accounts,"  said  my  informant,  "  he  had  not  yet  begun  to  search 
for  the  '  little  dog-pup,'  and  the  remarks  he  made  in  private  were 
quite  frightful  to  hear." 

From  Asboth  to  Fremont  is  a  natural  transition.  They  were 
friends  and  comrades ;  they  had  in  common  the  traits  of  courage 
and  enthusiasm ;  they  had  a  like  disdain  of  pettiness,  and  capacity 
for  silent  endurance ;  and  they  had  also,  as  you  might  expect  in 
natures  so  sound  at  core,  a  great  affection  for  animals. 

"  For  ourselves,"  writes  Mrs.  Fremont,  "  dogs  have  always  been 
part  of  the  family.  I  do  not  know,  indeed,  how  boys  can  be  happy 
without  them.  .  .  .  To  the  General  some  of  ours  were  friends 
and  companions,  especially  a  noble  staghound,  Thor.  They  walked 
together,  they  could  talk  together;  a  sort  of  Indian  sign-language 
belonging  with  old  experiences  made  Mr.  Fremont  proficient  in 
sign  and  eye  language,  and  Thor  knew  that. 

"  Thor's  father,  Thor  the  First,  belonged  to  Charlotte  Cush- 
man,  and  for  years  was  part  of  the  hunt  in  the  Campagna  around 
Rome.  She  brought  her  dog  home,  and  thinking  death  near  her, 
gave  it  to  a  friend  of  mine  who  had  a  beautiful  Scotch  deer-hound 
of  pure  breed,  Sheila  by  name.  Sheila  had  been  given  to  my 
friend's  brother-in-law,  an  officer  on  duty  in  Arizona,  at  Yuma,  by 
an  Englishman  who  came  there  intending  to  hunt.  Fancy  hounds 
coursing  over  that  cactus  ! 

"  Our  Thor  was  son  to  the  traveled  Sheila  and  Miss  Cushman's 
dog,  who  had  traveled  also,  but  in  civilized  places.  We  took  him 
with  us  to  Arizona,  and  there  he  died,  of  fever  partly,  partly 
of  old  age,  for  he  was  eleven,  and  hounds  give  out  young.  He 
was  nearly  human  in  intelligence  —  more  than  human  in  loyal 
attachment  and  undeviating  memory.  He  and  Pluto,  a  thorough- 


218  MILITARY    PETS. 

bred  coursing    hound,  were  the  two  who  were  longest  with  and 
closest  to  the  whole  family. 

"  Pluto  was  own  cousin  to  Master  Magrath,  the  famous  hound. 
He  was  a  gentler  nature  every  way  than  Thor,  who  was  grand, 
dignified,  without  attachments  or  associates  except  in  his  (our) 
own  family ;  reserved,  and  withdrawing  himself  from  all  attentions 
-even  those  of  our  friends.  Yet  he  had  intense  devotion  to  the 
General,  to  both  my  sons,  and  to  my  daughter,  and  was  very  fond 
of  me  too,  but  in  an  indulgent  sort  of  way,  because  I  belonged 
with  the  rest.  He  had  sense  and  a  faithful  heart.  The  latter 
gave  him  great  pain  ;  for  to  a  dog  you  cannot  explain  that  a  part- 
ing is  not  necessarily  final  ;  and  it  was  saddening  to  see  his  dis- 
tress when  the  General  would  go  away  in  Arizona.  And  when 
after  weeks  or  months  he  returned,  there  was  always  a  general 
rush  to  move  small  tables,  etc.,  out  of  range,  for  Thor  would  go 
wild  over  him,  leaping  up  to  lick  his  face,  jumping  wildly  about 
him,  putting  his  great  paws  on  the  General's  shoulders,  and  rub- 
bing his  grizzled  muzzle  against  the  General's  face,  with  cries 
almost  human,  and  painful,  hysterical  joy.  Everything  had  to 
give  way  to  him.  He  had  to  be  petted  and  quieted  down  like  an 
excited  baby ;  but  even  in  his  sleep,  afterwards,  he  would  cry  out 
and  quiver  all  over,  and  the  waking  would  be  a  subdued  repetition 
of  the  first  joy.  Thor's  name  is  never  carelessly  mentioned  even 
now,  six  years  after  his  death." 

Mrs.  Fremont  has  also  commemorated,  in  her  "  Story  of  the 
Guard,"  a  little  terrier  named  Corporal,  which  belonged  to  the 
band  of  gallant  young  men  known  as  General  Fremont's  Body- 
Guard.  He  was  not  pure-bred,  but  that  did  not  matter  —  sense 
and  fidelity  being  happily  independent  of  birth.  He  had  joined 
the  Guards  while  they  were  in  camp  at  St.  Louis,  became  a  gen- 


MILITARY    PETS. 


219 


eral  favorite,  and  when  they  made  their  splendid  charge  at  Spring- 
field, Mo.,  charged  with  them.  The  wild  dash  over,  he  remained 
on  the  field  all  night  with  a  wounded  soldier,  sped  away  for  help 
when  morning  dawned,  coaxed  and  pulled  until  he  persuaded  a 
man  to  follow,  and  thus  succeeded  in  saving  hi^  friend's  life.  In 
memory  of  this  brave  deed  the  men  bought  him  a  collar,  bright  as 
red  leather  and  silver  could  make  it,  with  the  inscription : 

CORPORAL, 
THE  BODY-GUARD'S  DOG. 

Springfield,  Oct.,  1861. 

But  although  dogs  are  such  good  soldiers,  they  are  no  braver 
than  horses ;  while  Pussy,  their  hereditary  rival,  keeps  fairly 
abreast  with  them  in  war  as  in  peace.  The  Grenadiers'  Cat  was 
contemporary  with  Bobby,  a  courageous  sharer  in  several  hard- 
fought  battles,  and  one  of  the  lamented  slain  at  Balaklava. 
Another  regimental  cat  was  found  by  Colonel  Stuart  Wortley, 
after  the  storming  of  the  Malakoff,  with  one  foot  pinned  to  the 
earth  by  a  bayonet.  He  took  her  to  a  surgeon,  who  dressed  the 
wounded  paw;  and  after  her  recovery,  adopting  her  preserver,  she 
used  to  follow  the  colonel  "all  over  the  camp,  with  her  tail  carried 

stiff  in  the  air." 

Deer,  and  even  lambs,  have  served  in  the  army  with  credit,  we 
are  told.  One  military  deer  "  liked  biscuit.  But  he  always  knew 
if  a  biscuit  had  been  breathed  on,  and  if  it  had  he  would  not  touch 
it.  He  was  very  fond-  of  music,  and  used  to  march  in  front  of  the 
band.  Sometimes  a  person  would  come  in  between  him  and  the 
band,  and  he  would  seem  to  be  quite  cross  about  it." 

An  unusual  pet,  which  like  the  king  never  dies,  is  the  goat  of 
the  Royal  Welsh  Fusileers.  When  one  goat  ceases  to  be,  another 


22O 


MILITARY    PETS. 


immediately  succeeds  him.  The  incumbent  now,  alas !  deceased, 
and  whose  portrait  is  given  here,  was  a  fine  white  Billy  from  the 
royal  herd  at  Windsor,  presented  to  the  regiment  by  the  queen. 
Apropos  of  his  decease,  an  officer  wrote  at  some  length  in  the 

London  Graphic  concerning  these  fa- 
mous goats.  He  quoted  from  the  Mili- 
tary Antiquities  of  Grose,  showing  them 
to  be  an  ancient  institution. 

"  The  Royal  Regiment  of  Welsh 
Fusileers  has  the  privileged  honor  of 
passing  in  review  preceded  by  a  goat 
with  gilded  horns  and  adorned  with 
ringlets  of  flowers ;  and  although  this 
may  not  come  immediately  under  the 
denomination  of  a  reward  of  merit,  yet 
the  corps  values  itself  much  on  the 
ancientness  of  the  custom. 
"  Every  first  of  March,  being  the  anniversary  of  their  tutular 
saint,  David,  the  officers  give  a  splendid  entertainment  to  their 
Welsh  brethren ;  and  after  the  cloth  is  taken  away  a  bumper  is 
filled  round  to  H.  R.  H.  the  Prince  of  Wales,  whose  health  is 
always  drunk  the  first  on  that  day ;  the  band  playing  the  old  tune 
of  '  The  Noble  Race  of  Shenkin,'  when  a  handsome  drummer-boy, 
elegantly  dressed,  mounted  on  the  goat,  richly  caparisoned  for 
the  occasion,  is  led  thrice  round  the  table  in  procession  by  the 
drum-major. 

"  It  happened  in  1775,  in  Boston,  that  the  animal  gave  such  a 
spring  from  the  floor  that  he  dropped  his  rider  upon  the  table,  and 
then  bounding  over  the  heads  of  some  officers,  he  ran  to  the  bar- 
racks with  all  his  trappings,  to  the  no  small  joy  of  the  garrison." 


THE  DEER  THAT  MARCHED  AHEAD. 


MILITARY    PETS. 


221 


The  officer  goes  on  to  say  that  "  the  same  goat  which  threw 
the  drummer  accompanied  the  regiment  into  action  at  Bunker's 
Hill,  when  the  Welsh  Fusileers  had  all  their  officers  except  one 
placed  hors  de  combat.  What  became  of  the  Bunker's  Hill  goat, 
\ve  do  not  know ;  nor  can  we  say  how  many  successors  he  had 
between  the  years  1775  and  1844.  In  the  latter  year  the  regimen- 
tal goat  died,  and  to  compensate  the  Twenty-third  for  its  loss,  Her 
Majesty  presented  the  regiment  with  two  of  the  finest  goats  be- 
longing to  a  flock  —  the  gift  of  the  Shah  of  Persia  —  in  Windsor 
Park.  Since  that  date  the  queen  has  continued  to  supply  the 
Royal  Welsh  Fusileers  with  goats  as  occasion  has  required. 
Billy  — '  Her  Majesty's  Goat,'  as  he  is  styled  —  bears  between  his 
horns  a  handsome  silver  shield  or  frontlet,  surrounded  by  the 
Prince  of  Wales'  plumes  and  motto,  with  the  inscription:  'The 
gift  of  Her  Majesty,  Queen  Victoria,  to  the  Royal  Welsh  Fusi- 
leers. A.  D.,  MDCCCXLVI.  Duw 
a  Cadwo  y  Frenhines! 

"  Billy  always  marches  at  the 
head  of  his  battalion,  alongside 
of  the  drum-major." 

From  this  account,  it  would  al- 
most seem  as  though  Billy  had  a 
share  in  placing  all  his  officers  but 
one  hors  dc  combat  at  Bunker's 
Hill.  If  such  was  the  case,  then 
he  undoubtedly  contributed  to  the  American  victory  on  that  occa- 
sion, and  I  do  not  see  why  a  grateful  nation  should  not  place  his 
portrait  in  the  Old  South.  Billy  as  a  corner-stone  of  American 
Independence  —  that  is  certainly  a  new  side-light  upon  history! 

Of  all  creatures,  the  most  unfit  for  war  appear  to  be  birds;  yet 


THE   WELSH    FUSILEERS'   GOAT. 


222  MILITARY    PETS. 

they,  too,  have  had  their  share  of  military  vicissitudes  and  mili- 
tary fame.  Geese  have  shown  a  genuine  vocation  for  soldiering, 
and  often  have  been  seen  waddling  over  a  battle  field  with  derisive 
composure,  as  though  it  were  no  more  than  a  quarrelsome  barn- 
yard. The  Romans  honored  them  hardly  less  than  their  national 
eagle,  ever  after  the  geese  of  the  Capitol  gave  the  alarm,  and 
enabled  them  to  drive  back  the  Gauls.  If  Rome  was  saved,  to  the 
geese  was  the  glory  ! 

A  modern  goose  for  twenty-three  years  accompanied  an  Uhlan 
regiment,  and  yet  another,  Jacob  by  name,  joined  the  Coldstream 
Guards  in  Canada.  He  had  been  living  in  the  usual  barnyard  re- 
tirement of  fowls  when  one  evening,  as  he  was  returning  home 
from  a  little  trip  outside,  a  fox  gave  chase.  All  would  soon  have 
been  over  with  Jacob  had  he  not  spied  a  sentry  near  by  and  taken 
refuge  between  his  feet.  The  fox  was  shot,  and  henceforth,  so 
long  as  a  sentry  was  stationed  at  this  place,  the  grateful  bird  would 
join  him  on  his  beat. 

Some  two  months  later  he  repaid  his  preserver  by  saving  the 
latter's  life,  when  he  in  turn  was  attacked.  Flying  at  the  enemy, 
and  beating  his  wings  in  their  faces,  he  so  disconcerted  them  that 
his  friend  was  enabled  to  kill  part  and  beat  off  the  rest. 

A  gold  collar,  with  suitable  inscription,  was  his  reward;  and 
Jacob,  in  high  favor  with  all,  accompanied  the  battalion  to  Eng- 
land. In  London  he  shared  its  barracks  and  had  a  sentry-go  of 
his  own,  until  one  luckless  day  he  was  run  over  by  a  cart  and 
killed. 

A  great  contrast  to  Jacob,  morally,  was  the  raven  Ralph,  which 
Thomas  Campbell  saw  in  garrison  at  Chatham.  He  was  one  of 
those  clever,  swaggering,  disreputable,  yet  kind-hearted  rascals  who 
so  often  enlist;  who  are  always  in  hot  water,  and  who,  nevertheless, 


MILITARY    PETS. 


22 


make  many  friends.  Ralph  had  a  fluent  tongue,  and  his  "  Atten- 
tion, Corporal!"  "Turn  out,  Guard!"  and  "Sentry  go!"  often 
cheated  the  listeners.  His  wings  had  been  clipped,  but  in  other 
respects  he  enjoyed  all  the  freedom  his  own  reckless  habits  per- 
mitted ;  and  when  in  an  excess  of  curiosity  he~  fell  over  into  a 
water-butt  and  was  drowned,  there  was  general  lamentation,  as 
though  he  had  been  a  very 
upright  bird  instead  of  an 
extremely  depraved  one. 

A  pleasanter  story  is  that 
of  the  little  bantam  cock 
which  perched  on  the  poop 
of  Lord  Rodney's  ship  dur- 
ing a  great  battle  with  the 
French,  flapping  his  wings 
and  crowing  shrill  defiance. 
It  is  a  pleasure  to  know  that 
this  tiny  hero  never  figured 
on  the  dinner-table,  but  was 
carefully  provided  for  so  long 
as  he  lived,  by  the  admiral's 
special  orders.  OLD  ABt- 

There  has  been  no  more  famous  pet  in  our  own  military  his- 
tory than  Old  Abe,  the  eagle  of  the  Eighth  Wisconsin  Regiment. 
From  being  at  first  the  pet  of  a  company,  he  rose  to  be  the  pet  of 
a  regiment,  and  finally  of  the  nation,  being  supported  at  the  public 
expense  from  the  close  of  the  war  until  his  death.  He  has  been 
photographed  and  painted  ;  he  has  had  his  biography  written ;  has 
been  exhibited  for  the  benefit  of  the  Sanitary  Commission,  and 
was  an  honored  guest  in  Philadelphia  at  the  Centennial.  More 


224  MILITARY    PETS. 

lucky    in    one    respect    than    human    celebrities  —  he    was    never 
annoyed  by  requests  for  his  autograph  ! 

It  is  tame  to  say  that  in  war  he  stood  fire  like  a  veteran ;  in 
truth,  he  thrilled  with  a  wild  excitement  in  battle.  Its  smoke  and 
roar  and  carnage  were  his  proper  element.  Borne  always  next  to 
the  regimental  colors,  his  perch  was  seamed  with  bullets ;  and  why 
he  was  not,  the  enemy's  sharpshooters  could  never  tell.  Some- 
times he  would  soar  high  above  the  fighting,  and,  poised  in  mid- 
air like  one  of  Homer's  deities,  survey  the  fearful  scene.  He 
shared  all  the  battles  of  the  regiment,  and  died  full  of  years  and 
honors. 

Always  beautiful  and  picturesque  in  his  best  estate,  the  horse 
is  never  more  so  than  in  connection  with  war.  Here,  more  than 
elsewhere,  except  on  the  race-course,  he  has  fame  and  a  career. 
His  interests  no  longer  conflict  with  those  of  his  master;  the 
honor  of  each  reflects  credit  on  the  other.  As  under  different 
circumstances  he  might  be  an  excellent  carriage-horse,  so  now  he 
is  an  excellent  soldier,  and  knows  "  the  keen  delight  of  battle  with 
his  peers." 

Achilles  had  his  Chestnut,  his  Dapple,  and  his  Spry ;  Hector, 
too,  had  his  favorites  —  Whitefoot  and  Firefly ;  but  far  more 
famous  and  certainly  more  authentic,  is  Bucephalus,  the  horse  of 
Alexander.  Plutarch  relates  the  whole  beautiful  story:  how  Philip 
of  Macedon  paid  a  great  sum  for  the  horse,  only  to  find  it  quite 
unmanageable.  Just  as  he  was  ordering  its  removal,  the  young 
Alexander,  who  had  been  watching  the  futile  efforts  of  the  grooms, 
begged  leave  to  try  his  hand.  By  a  method  similar  to  Rarey's  - 
by  gentleness,  confidence  and  a  firm  hand  —  he  won  Bucephalus. 
Henceforth,  the  two  were  fast  friends  and  fellow-soldiers.  They 
fought  together  in  Asia,  accompanied  part  of  the  time  at  least  by 


MILITARY    PETS.  225 

Peritas,  a  great  Molossian  hound.  Once  Bucephalus  was  captured 
by  a  party  of  barbarians,  but  they  wisely  surrendered  him  in  time 
to  avert  the  king's  vengeance. 

Wounded  in  the  great  battle  with  Porus,  and  worn  out  by  age, 
this  noble  horse  died  in  India  on  the  banks  of  the_Hydaspes.  His 
monument  was  a  city,  built  on  the  spot  where  he  died,  and  named 
after  him  by  his  master.  The  pair  are  commemorated  in  various 
ancient  works  of  art,  of  which  the  most  notable  is  a  great  mosaic, 
now  in  Naples,  representing  the  battle  of  Issus. 

Next  to  Bucephalus  might  be  placed  the  black  horse  which 
Ccesar  rode  during  his  campaigns  in  Gaul.  It  had  curiously  divided 
hoofs,  whence  the  augurs  predicted  good  fortune  to  its  rider ;  and, 
as  though  to  preserve  that  fortune  for  one  alone,  it  would  let  no 
one  mount  but  Caesar.  Its  after-fate  is  uncertain  — except  that  the 
master  of  the  world  was  not  ungrateful,  and  placed  the  statue  of 
his  good  servant  before  the  temple  of  Venus  in  Rome.  Possibly 
its  history  is  summed  up  in  the  story  Suetonius  tells  —  that  Caesar 
ordered  the  horses  which  had  served  him  in  Gaul  to  be  consecrated 
and  maintained  without  labor  the  rest  of  their  lives.  Among 
them,  it  is  more  than  likely,  was  the  nameless  steed  of  good 
augury. 

A  thousand  years  later  we  find  the  famous  Cid  in  Spain  riding 
Bavieca  to  victory,  and  mindful  of  his  horse's  welfare  even  in  the 
hour  of  his  own  death.  "  When  ye  bury  Bavieca,  dig  deep  !  "  says 
Ruy  Diaz,  "  for  shameful  thing  were  it  that  he  should  be  eat  by 
curs."  —  "  And  this  good  horse  lived  two  years  and  a  half  after  the 
death  of  his  master,  and  then  he  died  also,  having  lived,  according 
to  the  history,  full  forty  years." 

Yet  another  group  of  centuries,  and  what  equine  hero  is  this, 
standing  firm  as  a  rock,  small,  but  deep-chested,  in  color  a  rich 


226  MILITARY    PETS. 

chestnut,  and  gazing  at  us  with  large  velvety  eyes?  —  who  but 
Copenhagen,  the  war-horse  of  Wellington ! 

A  grandson  of  the  great  racer,  Eclipse,  he  had  wonderful 
powers  of  endurance,  and  combined  good  temper  with  sagacity. 
The  Duke  rode  him  for  eighteen  consecutive  hours  at  Waterloo ;  and 
then,  says  he,  "  thinking  how  bravely  my  old  horse  had  carried  me 
all  day,  I  could  not  help  going  up  to  his  head,  to  tell  him  so  by  a 
few  caresses.  But,  hang  me,  if  when  I  was  giving  him  a  slap  of 
approbation  on  the  hind  quarters,  he  did  not  fling  out  one  of  his 
hind  legs  with  as  much  vigor  as  if  he  had  been  in  stable  for  a 
couple  of  days  !  " 

After  the  war  was  over  he  was  taken  to  Strathfieldsaye,  the 
Duke's  country-seat ;  and  there,  an  object  of  general  interest,  spent 
the  rest  of  his  days  in  honorable  leisure.  It  is  true  that  this  dis- 
tinction had  its  drawbacks.  Young  ladies  would  entreat  the 
"  kind  duke  "  or  the  "  dear  duchess  "  for  a  little  of  Copenhagen's 
hair  to  set  in  a  ring;  until  finally,  his  neck  growing  bare  of  mane, 
and  his  tail  threatening  to  become  a  mere  stump,  his  admirers 
were  forced  to  content  themselves  with  such  stray  hairs  as  might 
fall.  A  fine  paddock  was  assigned  him,  with  a  summer  house  at 
one  corner,  opening  into  it  by  means  of  a  wicket.  Here  he  would 
come  daily  to  receive  bread  and  gentle  petting  from  the  duchess. 

With  age  his  eyesight  partially  failed,  and  his  teeth  grew  so 
poor  that  he  could  not  eat  oats  unless  they  were  broken  up  before- 
hand. He  was  twenty-seven  years  old  when  he  died,  in  1835.  He 
was  buried  in  his  paddock,  with  military  honors,  and  a  small  circu- 
lar railing  still  marks  the  spot.  Some  person  —  unknown  —  stole 
one  of  his  hoofs,  which  poor  memorial  is  now  preserved  in  the 
same  museum  as  Bobby,  together  with  the  skeleton  of  Marengo, 
the  horse  of  Wellington's  great  rival,  Napoleon. 


MILITARY    PETS.  227 

Various  horses  have  served  with  credit  in  America ;  but  more 
renowned  than  any — glorious  as  Roland  "  who  brought  good  news 
from  Ghent  "  -  is  the  one  that  bore  Sheridan  to  Winchester,  and 
enabled  him  to  turn  defeat  into  victory.  He  was  coal-black  save 
for  a  small  white  star  in  the  forehead,  beautifuHy  -formed,  and  full 
of  fire.  From  1862  until  the  end  of  the  war,  he  was  present  in 
ninety  battles,  and  several  times,  but  not  seriously  wounded.  The 
climax  of  his  fame  was  that  wild  ride  when  — 

"  With  foam  and  with  dust  the  black  charger  was  gray." 

It  roused  a  storm  of  enthusiasm  at  the  time ;  nor  will  a 
memory  soon  die  which  like  this  has  received  such  splendid  praise 
in  art  and  song.  So  — 

"  Hurrah,  hurrah  for  horse  and  man  ! 
And  when  their  statues  are  placed  on  high, 
Under  the  dome  of  the  Union  sky  — 
The  American  soldiers'  temple  of  fame  — 
There,  with  the  glorious  general's  name, 
Be  it  said  in  letters  both  bold  and  bright : 

'  Here  is  the  steed  that  saved  the  day 
By  carrying  Sheridan  into  the  fight 

From  Winchester —  twenty  miles  away ! ' " 


X. 

ANIMALS    AT    SCHOOL. 


X. 

ANIMALS    AT   SCHOOL. 

A  GOOD  deal  of  time  is  devoted,  especially  of  late  years,  to 
the  education  of  animals  and  birds.     The  simplest  form  of 
training  is  that  which  adapts  them  to  our  service,  and  teaches  them 
to  recognize  and  obey  the  different  words  of  command. 

Sir  Miles  Fleetwood  would  have  been  poorly  off  indeed  if  his 
horse  had  not  understood  the  meaning  of  whoa !  and  had  the  dis- 
cretion to  obey  it.  A  London  magistrate  under  James  I.,  he  was, 
according  to  Aubrey,  "  a  severe  hanger  of  highwaymen,  and  the 
fraternity  were  for  revenge."  They  caught  him  riding  alone  one 
night,  set  him  on  horseback  beneath  the  gallows,  with  his  hands 
tied  behind  him,  fastened  one  end  of  a  rope  to  the  gallows'  arm, 
the  other  being  noosed  around  his  neck,  then  left  him  to  his  fate. 

"  So  he  cried  '  Ho,  Ball  !  Ho,  Ball  ! '  and  it  pleased  God  that  his  horse  stood  still  until  some- 
body came  along,  which  was  a  quarter  of  an  hour  or  more.  He  ordered  that  this  horse  should  be 
kept  as  long  as  he  should  live,  which  was  so;  he  lived  till  1646." 

The  history  of  animals  abounds  in  examples  of  their  intelligence 
and  docility;  and  probably  no  one  who  has  a  favorite  animal  has 
failed  to  notice  some  such  instance  for  himself. 

23' 


232 


ANIMALS    AT    SCHOOL. 


K  LKAItlNC    1'HK  UKCHKSTRA. 
(After  fainting  ty  A  .  Gil!.) 


The  idea  of  teaching  animals  to  perform  tricks  is  certainly  a 
very  old  one.  The  trained  horses,  dogs  and  elephants  of  our 
modern  circus  had  their  predecessors  more 
than  two  thousand  years  ago,  in  Roman 
amphitheaters. 

We  learn  from  historians  that,  when 
Tiberius  was  emperor,  his  kinsman  Ger- 
manicus  exhibited  a  play  in  which  the  actors 
were  elephants.  They  were  dressed  in 
regular  garments,  danced,  performed  vari- 
ous tricks,  and  finally,  at  a  given  sig- 
nal, seated  themselves  around  a  table  on 
couches  spread  with  velvet,  and  concluded 
the  performance  by  eating  and  drinking 
with  perfect  propriety.  A  modern  artist  has  amusingly  represented 

this  ancient  bit  of  comedy. 
Plutarch     mentions     a 
dog     which 


trained  clog  which  was 
exhibited  before  Vespa- 
sian, in  the  theater  of 
Marcellus,  and  which  won 
great  applause  from  that 
jolly  emperor. 

Coming  down  to  the 
middle  of  the  seventeenth 
century,  we  have  a  print 
of  "  The  Cat  Showman  " 
surrounded  by  a  cat  or- 
chestra in  a  state  of  high 
performance;  we  have  also 


THE    ELEPHANTS   OF  GEKMANICUS. 


ANIMALS    AT    SCHOOL. 


233 


the  famous  "  chestain-coloured  naig,"  Morocco,  which  was  exhibited 
in  Scotland  ;  and  which  "  being  trained  up  in  dancing,  and  other  con- 
ceits of  that  kind,  did  afford  much  sport  and  contentment  to  the  peo- 
ple, but  not  without  gain, 
for  none  was  admitted  to 
see  the  dancing  without 
two  pence  the  piece,  and 
some  more."  His  master 
Banks,  to  borrow  Ander- 
son's entertaining  account, 
would  ask  — 


LA-UUS  1QUE-DE&CHAT5 


"  from  twenty  or  thirty  of  the  specta- 
tors a  piece  of  gold  or  silver,  put  all 
in  a  purse,  and  shuffle  them  together  ; 
thereafter  he  would  bid  the  horse  give 
every  gentleman  his  own  piece  of 
money  again.  He  would  cause  him  to 
tell  hv  so  many  pats  with  his  foot,  how 
many  shillings  the  piece  of  money  was 
worth.  He  would  say  to  him  :  '  I  will 
sell  you  to  a  carter';  then  he  would 
seem  to  die.  Then  he  would  say, 
'  Morocco,  a  gentleman  has  borrowed 
you.  and  you  must  ride  with  a  lady  of 
court.'  Then  would  he  most  daintily 

hackney,  amble,  and  ride  a  pace,  and  trot.  .  .  .  By  a  sign  given  him,  he  would  back  for 
the  King  of  Scots,  and  for  Queen  Elizabeth,  and  when  ye  spoke  of  the  King  of  Spain,  would 
both  bite  and  strike  at  you — and  many  other  wonderful  things.  I  was  a  spectator  myself  in 
those  days." 

The  mule  Marco,  whose  tricksy,  sagacious  countenance  confronts 
us  in  the  photograph  along  with  that  of  his  master,  Pinta,  was 
the  delight  of  little  Florentines  and  Romans,  not  to  mention  their 

o 

elders.     His  tricks  were  the  ordinary  ones,  but  whatever  he  did 


THE   CAT    SHOWMAN. 

e  of  a  Print  of  the  seventeenth  century. ) 


234 


ANIMALS    AT    SCHOOL. 


was  rendered  original  by  the  indescribable  air  of  humorous  inten- 
tion with  which  it  was  performed.  He  had  always  the  air  of 
voluntarily  combining  with  his  friend  Pinta  to  play  a  practical 
joke  upon  the  spectators ;  and  it  was  impossible  not  to  enjoy 
the  situation,  when  after  some  particularly  knowing  performance, 
Marco  would  slightly  turn  his  head  over  his  shoulder,  and  glance 
at  the  audience  out  of  the  tail  of  his  eye,  as  if  to  say :  "  You  are 

great  fools  to  be  taken  in 
with  so  little  ;  I  could  do 
bigger  things  if  I  cared 
to  try." 

The  poor  shoemaker, 
Bisset,  a  contemporary  of 
Sir  Walter  Scott,  suc- 
ceeded after  a  year  and  a 
half  of  patient  effort,  in 
teaching  his  pig  to  per- 
form a  number  of  tricks. 
Not  only  would  it  an- 
swer to  his  name,  obey 
signals,  kneel  down,  stand 
erect  on  its  hind  legs, 
and  bow,  but  it  would  pick 
out  certain  letters  with  its 
foot,  and  form  them  into 
words.  Still  "  curiouser 

and  curiouser,"  to  quote  Miss  Alice,  it  would  add  up  a  column  of 
figures,  and  put  the  correct  sum  total  below.  So  wonderful  were 
its  feats,  that  both  master  and  pig  came  near  being  killed  by  an 
excited  audience,  as  the  possessors  of  unholy  wisdom. 


PINTA   AND   HIS   MULE  MARCO. 


ANIMALS    AT    SCHOOL. 


The  education  of  dogs  is  in  itself  a  profession,  and  has  opened 
multifarious  employments  to  those  intelligent  creatures.  The  collie 
will  convoy  a  flock  of  sheep  to  pasture,  guard  them  all  day,  drive 
them  into  shelter  if  storms  arise,  and  guide  them  home  to  the  fold 
at  night.  The  dogs  of  the  St.  Bernard  hospice_have  been  devoted 
for  centuries  to  the  task  of  saving  life  amid  Alpine  wastes ;  and 
they  perform  this  duty  with  a  patience,  zeal  and  sagacity  that  no 
human  being  could  surpass.  Old  Barry  saved  forty-two  persons  — 
a  record  unequaled  in  any 
records. 

There  are  firemen's 
dogs,  who  in  most  cases 
volunteer  for  the  service, 
apparently  from  pure  ad- 
venturousness,  but  have 
often  saved  life  and  prop- 
erty in  the  way  of  their 
profession.  Not  least 
among  deeds  of  daring 
was  that  splendid  rush  of 
"  Bob,  the  London  Fire- 
man's Dog  "  into  a  blazing  building,  whence  he  brought  out  alive 
a  poor  cat ! 

Help,  a  collie,  has  been  trained  to  collect  money ;  is  an  accred- 
ited agent,  in  fact,  for  the  "  Society  of  Railway  Servants."  "  I  am 
Help,"  says  the  inscription  on  his  collar,  "  the  railway  dog  of 
England,  and  traveling  agent  for  the  orphans  of  railway  men  who 
are  killed  on  duty.  My  office  is  at  306,  City  Road,  London,  where 
subscriptions  will  be  thankfully  received."  In  three  years  this  dog 
collected  five  hundred  pounds.  One  can  hardly  resist  the  mute, 


HELP,   THE   RAILWAY    DOG   OF    ENGLAND. 


236  ANIMALS    AT    SCHOOL. 

dignified  appeal  with  which  this  noble  collie  approaches  you,  looks 
up  gravely  into  your  face,  then  after  waiting  long  enough  for  you 
to  inspect  his  credentials,  and  contribute  if  you  like,  passes  on  to 
another. 

Some  dogs,  like  that  of  Allan  Pinkerton,  show  an  aptitude  for 
detective  business,  and  become  valuable  auxiliaries;  others,  in  the 
service  of  dishonest  owners,  become  smugglers.  Immense  inge- 
nuity has  been  expended  in  training  them  for  the  latter  business, 
with  results  highly  satisfactory  to  their  owners.  "  Le  Diable  " 
so  named  by  French  custom-officers,  from  his  cleverness  and  daring 
-in  this  way  made  his  master  a  rich  man,  and  —  guiltless  outlaw 
that  he  was  —  was  killed  at  last  while  smuggling  a  packet  of  costly 
lace. 

A  more  honorable  outlet  for  canine  activity  has  been  found  in 
the  Prussian  army,  where  a  "Watch-Dog  Battalion"  is  formed. 
Its  members  —  usually  collies  —  are  trained  to  carry  dispatches, 
hunt  up  stragglers  on  a  march,  look  for  the  wounded,  and  do  out- 
post duty;  all  of  which  they  do  so  well  that  no  soldier  could  pos- 
sibly do  better. 

But  it  has  been  reserved  for  the  present  decade,  and  for  Sir 
John  Lubbock,  to  train  a  dog  to  converse.  He  says  that  he  was 
struck  first  by  the  applicability  to  animals  of  the  deaf-mute  system 
(as  used  by  Dr.  Howe  with  Laura  Bridgman),  and  began  to  test  it 
on  his  black  poodle  Van.  After  preparing  a  number  of  cards, 
printed  in  large  clear  letters,  with  such  words  as  "  water,"  "  tea," 
"  bone,"  "food,"  "  out,"  etc.,  he  by  degrees  associated  them  in  the 
dog's  mind  with  the  objects  they  represented,  and  in  a  few  weeks 
succeeded  in  teaching  Van  their  meaning.  When  the  little  fel- 
low wished  to  go  out,  he  would  bring  the  card  with  that  word,  if 
food,  then  that  card,  and  so  on  ;  selecting  the  desired  card  from  a 


ANIMALS    AT    SCHOOL. 


237 


number  of  others  with  evident  discrimination,  and  greatly  pleased 
with  his  own  success. 

Lately  too,  Prof.  Bonnetty  and  his  troupe  of  feline  actors  have 
come  to  the  fore  in  Paris,  where  they  have  aroused  immense 
enthusiasm.  The  professor  takes  his  cats  at  random  from  gutters, 
streets  or  roofs,  as  chance  may  have  it,  and  for  about  three  months 
leaves  them  at  perfect  liberty  in  a  large  room,  quietly  observing 


$*pa5i}  ••**» 


PROF.     HONNETTV'S   TROUPE. 


their  dispositions  and 
manners.  At  the  end  of  this  time  he 
begins  to  train  them  —  in  no  case  com- 
pelling them  by  fear.  Their  education 
usually  requires  a  year  and  a  half. 

Master  and  pupils  are  on  the  best  possible  terms  with  each  other. 
Their  "hours  in  school  "  are  short,  their  quarters  exquisitely  tidy, 
and  their  food  —  of  milk,  bread  and  liver  —  invariably  the  best 

J 

and  freshest   of  its  kind. 

They  are  really  cats  of  high  culture;  the  best  proof  whereof 
is  the  simplicity  and  ease  with  which  they  do  difficult  things.  No 
circus-rider  ever  jumped  through  hoops,  walked  ropes,  climbed 
poles  or  waltzed  over  chairs,  with  greater  agility.  They  sheathe 


238  ANIMALS    AT    SCHOOL. 

their  claws  to  live  and  play  in  amity  with  birds  and  mice.  They 
are  "cats  with  a  conscience,"  as  the  professor  says,  and  their  help- 
less, confiding  little  associates  have  no  more  fear  of  them  than  of 
one  another. 

Juno,  Sjenni,  Maor,  Tommek,  Blanc,  Caesar,  Brutus,  Paris, 
Bruxelles,  Henderik,  Swart  and  Gora  were  the  members  of  the 
troupe  some  years  past  —  together  with  Boulanger,  a  tiger-marked 
kitten  who  displayed  "little  fear  and  a  great  thirst  for  fame," 
and  Tyber,  the  star-actor.  The  latter  was  a  wonderful  performer, 
evincing  a  fine  intellect,  and,  says  De  Biez,  would  certainly  have 
been  a  god  in  Egypt ! 

A  parallel  may  be  found  for  these  clever  French  felines  in  the 
Brighton  cats  of  England.  They  are  more  discriminatingly  chosen 
than  Prof.  Bonnetty's  actors;  but  their  performances,  although  dif- 
ferent in  some  respects,  are  no  more  wonderful.  One  of  them,  a 
white  Angora,  rides  a  bicycle  with  much  grace.  When  fairly 
started  she  becomes  enthusiastic,  and  urges  her  two-wheeler 
rapidly  along,  with  an  evident  enjoyment  that  the  by-standers  find 
contagious.  The  tabbies  do  housework  to  perfection,  scrub  little 
handkerchiefs  or  towels  in  a  tub,  hang  up  the  washing,  preside 
over  the  roast  beef  of  Old  England,  or  the  tea  things,  skate  on 
rollers,  and  all  with  such  blithe  content  and  spirit,  that  they  seem 
like  little  witches  masquerading  in  fur. 

One  of  the  most  notable  efforts  at  educating  Pussy  has  been 
made  recently  by  a  Russian,  Prince  Krapotkine.  This  gentle- 
man's revolutionary  sentiments  landed  him  one  day  in  a  prison, 
where  he  had  plenty  of  leisure  to  educate  anything  he  could  find. 
The  anything  in  this  case  proved  to  be  the  prison  cat.  His  fel- 
low-prisoner, M.  Emile  Gautier,  being  already  educated,  was  a 
disinterested  observer  of  the  experiment.  He  reports  among  other 


THE    HEAD    OF    THE    FAMILY. 


FIVE  O'CLOCK  TEA. 


A    FAVORITE    DIVERSION*. 


(The  Brighton  Cats.) 


ANIMALS    AT    SCHOOL. 


241 


things,  that   Pussy  became  very  expert  at  the  game  of  hide-and- 
seek.      He  adds : 


"  I  ought  to  tell  you,  besides,  that  Nature  has  ornamented  my  head  with  a  luxurious  mass  of 
hair.  Krapotkine,  on  the  other  hand,  is  extremely  bald.  ...  It  has  often  happened  when 
playing  with  her,  that  she  softly  passed  her  paw  over  our  respective  headl,  as  if  to  ascertain  that 
her  eyes  did  not  deceive  her.  This  inspection  concluded,  and  the  visual  notions  confirmed  by 
touch,  her  physiognomy  took  the  air  of  comic  surprise.  The  variety  of  sensations  perplexed  her. 
Nearly  every  evening  the  scene  was  gone  through,  to  our  great  edification,  as  you  may  imagine." 

The  birds  which  act  with  these  different  troupes  have  been 
comparatively  unimportant,  except  in  connection  with  their  feline 
companions.  Nevertheless,  birds,  too,  can  be  trained,  and  are. 
There  is  a  charming  pathetic  story  of  a  little  Sardinian,  Francesco 
Micheli,  who  turned  his  liking  for  birds  to  account  in  earning 
money  for  his  family.  He  trained  sparrows,  thrushes,  linnets, 
canaries  —  whatever  feathered  creature  came  within  his  reach. 
Some  he  taught  to  pipe  simple  tunes,  others  to  play  hide-and-seek 
with  his  white  Angora 
cat ;  a  nest  of  young  par- 
tridges, under  his  teach- 
ing, embraced  the  mili- 
tary profession,  learned 
to  drill,  hold  little  swords, 
fire  off  little  cannon,  pre- 
tend  to  be  killed,  and 
then  come  to  life  again. 
One  of  these  intelligent 
partridges,  Rosolotta, 
grieved  with  a  human  grief  when  her  clear  master  died,  and 
is  said  —  like  "  Greyfriars'  Bobby"  -to  have  watched  over  his 
o-rave  so  lone  as  she  lived. 

o  o 


.,,-•_  - 


A   CAT   WITH   A   CONSCIKNCF. 
(One  of  Prof .  Bouuettf'f  Troupe.') 


242 


ANIMALS    AT    SCHOOL. 


I  was  reminded  of  this  little  Sardinian  and  his  pets  by  a  scene 
I  witnessed  one  morning  in  Rome.  A  crowd  of  people  had  gath- 
ered near  the  broad  base  of  the  Antonine  column,  watch i no-  the 

performance  of  four  pig- 
eons and  three  canaries. 
The  little  maid  with  the 
pigeons  was  charm  ing - 
and  so  were  they  —  as  she 
bid  them  tell  her  their  se- 
crets, and  in  response  they 
fluttered  up  her  shoulders, 
and  cooed  into  her  ear. 
But  the  true  interest  of 
the  entertainment  —  its 
dramatic  part — began  with 
the  canaries.  The  little 
actors  were  sitting  in  a 
row  on  top  of  their  cage, 
demurely  waiting  for  or- 
ders. Their  mistress  talked 
to  them  meanwhile,  now 
praising  their  talents,  now 
admiring  their  beauty,  they 
following  each  motion  of 
her  lips  with  keen,  inquisi- 
tive glances. 

"  Thou,  Beppo,  art  a  bird  of  great  character,  ^ln  gran  caral- 
tere !  Really,  thou  art  wonderful!  Zirlo,  my  fine  fellow"  (to 
the  second),  "what  a  bird  art  thou!  Who  like  thee  can  climb  the 
scaletta  (little  ladder) !  No  one,  in  truth,  and  they  are  base  ladroni 


"TF.I.l.    ME  THY   SECRET,    BEPPO.' 
(The  Roman  Bird  Girl.) 


ANIMALS    AT    SCHOOL.  243 

that  deny  thy  merits;  eh  Pippa  ? "  (to  the  third).  "Dost  thou 
hear?  Bellissima!  One,  two,  three,  come  then,  my  Pippa,  kiss 
me."  She  -extended  a  finger.  Pippa  transferred  herself  to  it 
from  the  perch,  and  climbing  the  arm  to  her  face,  gave  a  fluttering 
little  salute  first  to  one  cheek,  then  to  the  othe-r.  _  After  which, 
hopping  back  to  the  finger,  she  made  a  droll  little  bow,  and 
returned  to  the  perch. 

Then  it  was  Zirlo's  turn;  and  this  enterprising  bird  not  only 
climbed  the  scaletta,  but  finding  a  gun  at  the  top,  shouldered  it, 
pulled  the  trigger  with  an  infinitesimal  claw,  and  —  bang!  —  who 
should  tumble  from  his  perch  but  poor  Beppo,  and  lie  perfectly 
rigid  on  the  ground.  Zirlo's  fit  of  anger  was  quenched  at  this 
piteous  sight ;  carefully  he  examined  the  stiff  figure  and  at  last, 
picking  up  an  inch-square  pocket-handkerchief  with  one  foot, 
applied  it  to  his  eyes,  and  wept  bitterly.  Then  up  jumped 
Beppo,  who  had  only  been  feigning,  and  the  two  touched  bills 
in  token  of  reconciliation,  and  waltzed  —  wing  in  wing  —  frater- 
nally off  the  stage. 

It  was  a  pretty  scene  —  the  sunshine,  the  people,  the  tiny  per- 
formers below,  and  the  mighty  column  towering  high  above  them 
-the  grandeur  of  old  Rome  looking  down  upon  the  present  thus 
lightly  amusing  itself. 


XI. 

A     MENAGERIE     IN    STONE. 


XI. 


A    MENAGERIE   IN   STONE. 

IN  Rome  there  is  always  something  to  stir  the  fancy  and  quicken 
the  pulse  —  always  something  to  recall  to  the  Present  the 
magnificent  Past.  Now  it  is  a  column  or  statue,  now  a  ruined 
palace,  and  now  the  vast  fabric  of  an  amphitheater.  But  the  ruins 
are  weighted  with  such  tragic  memories  of  by-gone  Caesars  —  their 
wars,  their  triumphs,  their  funeral  pomp  —  as  to  be  almost  oppres- 
sively solemn.  Let  us  then  leave  them  for  once,  and  go  where  the 
Past  will  suggest  itself  in  some  simpler,  happier  fashion  —  let  us 
visit  a  Roman  "  Zoo." 

No  day  could  be  better  for  the  purpose  than  this  sunny  one ; 
for  the  Zoo  has  its  home  in  the  Vatican,  and  we  need  all  the  sun- 
shine we  can  get  to  counteract  its  chill.  Besides,  no  matter  with 
how  definite  a  purpose  we  set  out,  once  within  that  marble  world 
we  are  sure  to  linger  —  so  many  are  the  objects  that  claim  the  eye. 
It  is  only  after  a  lingering  stroll  that  we  at  last  reach  the  Sala 
degli  Animali,  or  Hall  of  the  Animals. 

An  odd  world  it  is,  suggesting  the  pictures  of  Paradise  before 

the  dispersion  of  species ;  a  world  that  includes  creatures  wild  and 

247 


248 


A     MENAGERIE    IN    STONE. 


tame,  familiar  and  suppositions  —  birds,  harpies,  dragons,  reptiles, 
quadrupeds,  Minotaur,  insects  and  fish.  Three  patrons  of  the 
chase  preside,  Diana  and  Hercules  at  one  end  of  the  hall,  the 
imperial  hunter  Commodus  at  the  other. 

The  longer  we  gaze  the  stronger  grows  our  feeling  that  it  is  in 
truth  a  menagerie,  surviving  somehow  from  early  days.  Only,  how 
very  silent!  The  last  party  of  tourists  has  passed  on,  we  are  quite 

alone,  save  for  these 
many  shapes  all  around 
us  —  and  it  is  hardly  in 
nature  that  no  faintest 
sound  or  movement 
should  be  heard.  Those 
graceful  greyhound  pup- 
pies play  with  each  other 
in  perfect  silence ;  not 
a  footfall  nor  crackling 
twig  betrays  the  flight 
of  yonder  deer. 

And  so,  gradually,  it 
dawns  on  us  that  al- 
though this  is  life,  it 
is  life  long  turned  to  stone.  Some  Arabian  Nights'  enchantment 
has  been  at  work,  arresting  these  varied  forms  in  their  prime  of 
activity;  and,  doubtless,  on  some  future  day,  at  the  true  wizard's 
touch,  they  will  turn  back  again  from  marble  into  breathing  flesh. 
But  that  will  not  happen  to-day,  nor  yet  to-morrow,  so  we  may  as 
well  take  advantage  of  the  stillness  to  see  what  the  menagerie 
contains. 

Avdun  cow,  not  far  from   Diana,  stands  snuffing  the  fresh  air 


SCULPTURE   OF   GREYHOUNDS    IN    THE   VATICAN. 


A     MENAGERIE     IN    STONE. 


249 


with  upraised  head;  and  a  horse  which  once  was  roan  —  at  least 
the  marble  still  bears  traces  of  reddish  paint  —  looks  inquiringly 
toward  her.  Near  these  peacefully-inclined  animals  crouches  a 
lion,  in  readiness  to  leap  upon  his  prey.  In  the  next  group  the 
victim  is  secured;  it  represents  a  horse  pulled-  down  by  a  lion. 
Note  the  relentless  grasp  of  the  one,  the  helpless  agony  of  the 
other.  Wonderful  as  a  work  of  art,  it  is  nevertheless  too  painful 
to  linger  before ;  we  are  glad  to  turn  away.  Similar  in  character 
are  two  groups  of  deer  seized  by  hounds,  and  another  of  a  panther 
devouring  its  prey. 

Here  is  a  wild  boar,  here  the  ugly  phiz  of  a  camel ;  here  an 
alligator,  to  whose  neu- 
tral character  an  exist- 
ence in  marble  seems 
peculiarly  well  adapted ; 
and  here,  at  a  respectful 
distance  from  his  jaws, 
are  a  cock,  a  goose,  a 
pelican,  several  peacocks 
and  an  eagle.  The  dig- 
nity of  the  latter  is  worth 
noting  —  its  calm,  impe- 
rial reserve,  so  indicative 
of  the  Rome  whose  em- 
blem it  was. 

Of  the   monkey   hard 
by  it  can  only  be  said  that 

he  is  as  perfect  as  monkeyish  a  monkey  as  ever  breathed.  He  has 
been  stealing  fruit,  probably  from  some  old  Roman  garden,  and  has 
made  off  to  this  corner  to  eat  it  on  the  sly,  glancing  over  his 


SCULPTURE   OK   THIEVING    MONKEY    IN   THE   VATICAN. 


250 


A     MENAGERIE     IN    STONE. 


shoulder    every  now  and    then    to    make    sure    that    no    one  will 

interrupt. 

A  goat,  a  rhinoceros   and   a   hyena  come   next,  and   then  we 

approach  a  most  remarkable  bust  of  the  Minotaur,  that  bull- 
headed,  human-bodied  ter- 
ror which  demanded  a 
yearly  tribute  of  youths 
and  maidens,  and  was 
finally  slain  by  Theseus, 
to  the  great  relief  of  the 
Athenian  world.  What 
brutal,  pitiless  life,  what 
fierce  joy  in  the  antici- 
pated victims,  looks  out 
from  his  eyes  and  dilates 
his  nostrils !  It  is  a  re- 
lief to  turn  away  from 
the  brute  and  examine 
instead  his  near  neigh- 
bors, a  crab  and  a  green- 
gray  dolphin  rising  from 
waves  of  white  marble. 
The  queer  object  just  beyond  is  an  armadillo  with  stone  scales 

scarcely  harder  than  real  ones;  while  every  one  will  recognize  at 

first  glance  the  jolly  little  rabbit  beside  him,  and  the  two  hares 

nibbling  at  a  bunch  of  grapes.     The  next  animal  is  a  historic  one 
-the  famous  white  sow  of  Alba.     She  reclines  among  part,  not 

all  of  her  thirty  pigs,  for  the  artist  seems  to  have  given  out  in 

exhaustion  after  carving  the  first  dozen. 

In  the  neighborhood  of  Commodus  are  several  panthers  and 


STAG    IN    AI.AKASTER    IN    THE    VATICAN. 


A     MENAGERIE     IN    STONE. 


253 


lions;  a  leopard,  whose  black  spots  have  been  inserted,  like 
mosaic ;  a  stag,  whose  dappled  skin  is  represented  by  the  natural 
venation  of  the  alabaster  from  which  it  is  carved ;  an  eagle  with 
her  young;  a  craw-fish  and  a  porphyry  frog. 

There  are  also  a  number  of  dogs,  in  every  way  admirable,  and 
probably  the  exact  portraits  of  some  fair  Roman  lady's  pets. 
Nothing  could  be  more 
natural  or  charming  than 
the  two  greyhound  pup- 
pies frolicking  with  each 
other;  nothing  more 
graceful  or  aristocratic 
than  the  full-grown  grey- 
hound which  sits  upon 
its  haunches,  and  offers 
a  paw.  They  are  patri- 
cian to  their  very  toes 
and  tail-tips,  just  as  the 
honest  mastiff  hard  by, 
growl  ingly  protecting 
her  puppies,  is  plebeian. 

The  shaggy  dog  who 
looks    up    at    you    in 

friendly  fashion,  and  whose  portrait  appears  above,  is  also  decidedly 
a  patrician,  if  the  conjecture  is  right  that  he  represents  the  famous 
Molossian  breed. 

Such,  in  barest  outline,  is  the  Vatican  menagerie  —  the  work 
of  the  Baryes,  Bonheurs  and  Landseers  of  days  past.  It  has  over- 
flowed its  bounds  to  some  extent,  and  a  number  of  fine  specimens 
must  be  sought  in  other  collections.  In  the  Capitol,  for  instance, 


I'ATKICIAN    OR   PI.EHKIAN  ? 


254 


A     MENAGERIE     IN    STONE. 


are  "  Pliny's  Doves,"  whose  gurgling  coo  we  quite  expect  to  hear, 
until  closer  inspection  proves  them —  a  mosaic!  They  are  called 
the  doves  of  Pliny,  not  because  they  belonged  to  that  delightful 
letter-writer,  but  because  he  described  them  in  terms  so  accurate 
that  we  cannot  help  knowing  the  mosaic  of  the  Capitol  is  the 
same  he  looked  at  almost  nineteen  hundred  years  ago.  "  There  is 
a  dove,"  he  says,  "which  is  greatly  admired,  in  the  act  of  drinking, 
and  throwing  the  shadow  of  his  head  upon  the  water,  while  other 
cloves  are  present,  sunning  and  pluming  themselves  on  the  margin 
of  a  drinking-bowl." 

Pliny  was  an  excellent  judge  of  art  matters,  and  certainly  these 
doves  are  no  less  admired  to-day  than  in  his  time. 

But  more  famous  than  any  bird  or  beast  in  Italy,  is  the  bronze 

wolf  of  the  Capitol.  Its 
age  is  great,  as  the  Etrus- 
can workmanship  alone 
would  prove ;  and  many 
believe  it  to  be  the  iden- 
tical statue  struck  by 
lightning  during  the  con- 
sulship of  Caesar  and 
Bibulus.  In  confirma- 
tion, they  point  to  the 

THE  CHIMERA  ;    ETRUSCAN    SCULPTURE   IN   THE   HARGEI.LU         jaggCcl     TCllt    111    On6    of    itS 
AT    FLORENCE.  ,    .  1    •     1 

hind     legs,     which    may 

have  been  caused  by  such  an  accident.  This,  if  true,  would 
make  it  the  most  notable  sculpture  in  existence.  However, 
whether  Caesar  saw  it  or  not,  it  is  still  venerable  enough  to  com- 
mand attention,  and  few  tourists  fail  to  pay  it  their  respects. 

The  nurse  of  Romulus  and  Remus  is  also  commemorated  by  a 


A     MENAGERIE     IN    STONE.  255 

living  wolf  which  resides  in  the  triangular  patch  of  garden  between 
the  steps  to  the  Capitol,  and  those  which  lead  up  to  Ara  Cceli. 
The  present  incumbent  is  a  sleek  gray  fellow  from  Monte  Maietta 
in  the  Abruzzi.  A  live  eagle  separated  by  a  netting  bears  him 
company,  but  these  caged  emblems  are  but  shabby  reminders  of 
the  glory  of  old  Rome. 

Ancient  as  the  brazen  she-wolf,  and  like  it  of  Etruscan  make, 
is  the  Chimera  of  the  Bargello  at  Florence.  It  is  a  comically 
terrific  creature,  whose  three  heads  are  all  busily  engaged — one 
biting  its  neighbor  head,  and  the  third  roaring  at  the  injury.  In 
the  Bargello  also  is  a  superb  turkey-gobbler  of  bronze,  credited  to 
Gian  cla  Bologna,  and  some  capital  turtles  in  marble.  Admirable 
as  they  arc,  however,  they  are  forgotten  when,  on  entering  a  small 
room  in  the  Uffizi,  the  famous  Florentine  boar  and  Molossian 
hound  meet  our  gaze.  Every  line  of  their  softly  yellowed  marble 
reveals  the  patient,  loving  touch  of  sculptors  whose  work  alone 
survives  —  whose  names  and  stories  are  unknown.  They  aimed  at 
perfection,  and  were  doubtless  content  to  be  forgotten,  if  only 
their  works  might  live. 

They,  indeed,  are  the  sole,  the  true  enchanters,  whose  touch 
petrified  for  posterity  this  menagerie  in  stone. 


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